,1  iU  »™l»9i«  «  . 

PRINCETON,   N.  J. 


DA  209    .T4  F7  1878 
Froude,  James  Anthony,  1818- 
1894. 

Life  and  times  of  Thomas 

SAei/.   Be  eke  t    


THOMAS  BECKET. 


WORKS 

OF 

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LIFE  AND  TIMES 


OF 


THOMAS  BECKET. 


BY 

JAMES  ANTHONY^^FROUDE,  M.  A. 


NEW  YORK: 
SCRIBNER,  ARMSTRONG  AND  COMPANY. 
1878. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTTPED   AND    PRIX TED  BX 
H.  0.  HOUGHTON  AND  COMPANT. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 

OF 

THOMAS  BECKET.^ 


CHAPTER  I. 

Among  the  earliest  efforts  of  the  modern  sacerdotal  party 
in  the  Church  of  England  was  an  attempt  to  reestablish 
the  memory  of  the  martyr  of  Canterbury.  The  sacerdotal 
party,  so  far  as  their  objects  were  acknowledged,  aspired 
only  to  liberate  the  Church  from  bondage  to  the  State. 
The  choice  of  Becket  as  an  object  of  adoration  was  a  tacit 
confession  of  their  real  ambition.  The  theory  of  Becket 
was  not  that  the  Church  had  a  right  to  self-administration, 
but  that  the  Church  was  the  supreme  administrator  in  this 
world,  and  perhaps  in  the  next ;  that  the  secular  sword  as 
well  as  the  spiritual  had  been  delivered  to  Peter ;  and  that 
the  civil  power  existed  only  as  the  delegate  of  Peter's  suc- 
cessors. If  it  be  true  that  the  clergy  are  possessed  in  any 
real  sense  of  supernatural  powers ;  if  the  "  keys,"  as  they 
are  called,  have  been  actually  granted  to  them  ;  if  through 
them,  as  the  ordinary  and  appointed  channel,  the  will  of 
God  is  alone  made  known  to  mankind  —  then  Becket  was 
right,  and  the  High  Churchmen  are  right,  and  kings  and 
cabinets  ought  to  be  superseded  at  once  by  commissions  of 

1  Materials  for  the  History  of  Thomas  Becket,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury. Edited  by  James  Craigie  Robertson,  Canon  of  Canterbury.  Pub- 
lished under  the  direction  of  the  Master  of  the  KoUs.  1876. 


2  Life  and  Times  of 

s 

bishops.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  clergy  are  but  like 
other  orders  of  priesthoods  in  other  ages  and  countries  — 
mere  human  beings  set  apart  for  peculiar  functions,  and 
tempted  by  the  nature  of  those  functions  into  fantastic  no- 
tions of  their  own  consequence  —  then  these  recurring  con- 
flicts between  Church  and  State  resolve  themselves  into 
phenomena  of  social  evolution,  the  common  sense  of  man- 
kind exerting  itself  to  control  a  groundless  assumption.  To 
the  student  of  human  nature  the  story  of  such  conflicts  is 
always  interesting  —  comedy  and  tragedy  winding  one  into 
the  other.  They  have  furnished  occasion  for  remarkable 
exhibitions  of  human  character.  And  while  Churchmen 
are  raising  up  Becket  as  a  brazen  serpent,  on  which  the 
world  is  to  look  to  be  healed  of  its  incredulities,  the  incred- 
ulous world  may  look  with  advantage  at  him  from  its  own 
point  of  view,  and,  if  unconvinced  that  he  was  a  saint,  may 
still  find  instruction  in  a  study  of  his  actions  and  his  fate. 

We  take  advantage,  then,  of  the  publication  of  new  ma- 
terials and  the  republication  of  old  materials  in  an  accessible 
form  to  draw  a  sketch  of  Becket  as  he  appears  to  ourselves ; 
and  we  must  commence  with  an  attempt  to  reproduce  the 
mental  condition  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  Human 
nature  is  said  to  be  always  the  same.  It  is  no  less  true 
that  human  nature  is  continuously  changing.  Motives 
which  in  one  age  are  languid  and  even  unintelligible  have 
been  in  another  alive  and  all-powerful.  To  comprehend 
these  differences,  to  take  them  up  into  his  imagination,  to 
keep  them  present  before  him  as  the  key  to  what  he  reads, 
is  the  chief  difl[iculty  and  the  chief  duty  of  the  student  of 
history. 

Characteristic  incidents,  particular  things  which  men  rep- 
resentative of  their  age  indisputably  did,  convey  a  clearer 
idea  than  any  general  description.  Let  the  reader  attend 
to  a  few  transactions  which  occurred  either  in  Becket's  life- 
time or  immediately  subsequent  to  it,  in  which  the  principal 
actors  were  persons  known  to  himself. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


3 


We  select  as  the  first  a  scene  at  Martel  near  Limoges  in 
the  year  1183.  Henry  Plantagenet,  eldest  son  of  Henry 
the  Second,  Prince  of  Wales  as  we  should  now  call  him, 
called  then  "  the  young  king,"  for  he  was  crowned  in  his 
father's  lifetime,  at  that  spot  and  in  that  year  brought  his 
disordered  existence  to  an  end.  His  career  had  been  wild 
and  criminal.  He  had  rebelled  ag^ainst  his  father  again 
and  again ;  again  and  again  he  had  been  forgiven.  In  a  fit 
of  remorse  he  had  taken  the  cross,  and  intended  to  go  to 
Jerusalem.  He  forgot  Jerusalem  in  the  next  temptation. 
He  joined  himself  to  Lewis  of  France,  broke  once  more 
into  his  last  and  worst  revolt,  and  carried  fire  and  sword 
into  Normandy.  He  had  hoped  to  bring  the  nobles  to  his 
side;  he  succeeded  only  in  burning  towns  and  churches, 
stripping  shrines,  and  bringing  general  hatred  on  himself. 
Finding,  we  are  told,  that  he  could  not  injure  his  father  as 
much  as  he  had  hoped  to  do,  he  chafed  himself  into  a  fever, 
and  the  fever  killed  him.  Feeling  death  to  be  near,  he  sent 
a  message  to  his  father  begging  to  see  him.  The  old  Henry, 
after  past  experience,  dared  not  venture.  The  prince  (I 
translate  literally  from  a  contemporary  chronicler)  — 

then  called  his  bishops  and  religious  men  to  his  side.  He  con- 
fessed his  sins  first  in  private,  then  openly  to  all  who  were  pres- 
ent. He  was  absolved.  He  gave  his  cross  to  a  friend  to  carry 
to  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  Then,  throwing  off  his  soft  clothing,  he 
put  on  a  shirt  of  hair,  tied  a  rope  about  his  neck,  and  said  to 
the  bishops  — 

"  By  this  rope  I  deliver  over  myself,  a  guilty  and  unworthy 
sinner,  to  you  the  ministers  of  God.  Through  your  interces- 
sion and  of  his  own  ineffable  mercy,  I  beseech  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  forgave  the  thief  upon  the  cross,  to  have  pity  on 
my  unhappy  soul." 

A  bed  of  ashes  had  been  prepared  on  the  floor. 

"  Drag  me,"  he  went  on,  "by  this  rope  out  of  this  bed,  and 
lay  me  on  the  ashes." 

The  bishop  did  so.  They  placed  at  his  head  and  at  his  feet 
two  large  square  stones,  and  so  he  died. 


4 


Life  and  Times  of 


There  is  one  aspect  of  the  twelfth  century — the  darkest 
crimes  and  the  most  real  superstition  side  by  side  coexisting 
in  the  same  character. 

Turn  from  Martel  to  Oxford,  and  go  back  seventeen 
years.  Men  who  had  so  little  pity  on  themselves  were  as 
pitiless  to  others.  We  quote  from  Stowe.  The  story  is 
authenticated  by  contemporary  chroniclers. 

1166.  There  came  into  England  thirty  Germans,  as  well  men 
as  women,  who  called  themselves  Publicans.  Their  head  and 
ruler,  named  Gerardus,  was  somewhat  learned;  the  residue  very 
rude.  They  denied  matrimony  and  the  sacraments  of  baptism 
and  the  Lord's  Supper,  with  other  articles.  They  being  appre- 
hended, the  king  caused  a  council  to  be  called  at  Oxford,  where 
the  said  Gerard  answered  for  all  his  fellows,  who  being  pressed 
with  Scripture  answered  concerning  their  faith  as  they  had  been 
.  taught,  and  would  not  dispute  thereof.  After  they  could  by  no 
means  be  brought  from  their  errors,  the  bishop  gave  sentence 
:against  them,  and  the  king  commanded  that  they  should  be 
-marked  with  a  hot  iron  in  the  forehead  and  whipped,  and  that 
no  man  should  succor  them  with  house-room  or  otherwise. 
They  took  their  punishment  gladly,  their  captain  going  before 
them  singing,  "  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  hate  you."  They 
were  marked  both  in  the  forehead  and  the  chin.  Thus  being 
whipped  and  thrust  out  in  winter,  they  died  with  cold,  no  man 
relieving  them. 

To  the  bishops  of  Normandy  Henry  Plantagenet  handed 
the  rope  to  drag  him  to  his  death-bed  of  ashes.  Under 
sentence  from  the  bishops  of  England  these  German  here- 
tics were  left  to  a  fate  more  piteous  than  the  stake.  The 
privilege  and  authority  of  bishops  and  clergy  was  Becket's 
plea  for  convulsing  Europe.  What  were  the  bishops  and 
clergy  like  themselves?  We  will  look  at  the  bishops 
assembled  at  the  Council  of  Westminster  in  the  year  1176. 
Cardinal  Hugezun  had  come  as  legate  from  Rome.  The 
council  was  attended  by  the  two  archbishops,  each  accom- 
panied by  his  suffragans,  the  abbots,  priors,  and  clergy  of  his 
province.    Before  business  began,  there  arose  dira  lis  et 


Thomas  Becket. 


5 


contentio,  a  dreadful  strife  and  contention  between  these 
high  personages  as  to  which  archbishop  should  sit  on  the 
cardinal's  right  hand.  Hichard  of  Canterbury  said  the  right 
was  with  him.  Roger  of  York  said  the  right  was  with  him. 
Words  turned  to  blows.  The  monks  of  Canterbury,  zealous 
for  their  master,  rushed  upon  the  Archbishop  of  York,  flung 
him  down,  kicked  him,  and  danced  upon  him  till  he  was 
almost  dead.  The  cardinal  wrung  his  hands,  and  charged 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  with  having  set  them  on. 
The  Archbishop  of  York  made  his  way,  bruised  and  bleed- 
ing, to  the  king.  Both  parties  in  the  first  heat  appealed  to 
the  pope.  Canterbury  on  second  thoughts  rej^ented,  went 
privately  to  the  cardinal,  and  bribed  him  to  silence.  The 
appeal  was  withdrawn,  the  affair  dropped,  and  the  council 
went  on  with  its  work. 

So  much  for  the  bishops.  We  may  add  that  Becket's 
friend  John  of  Salisbury  accuses  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
on  common  notoriety,  of  having  committed  the  most  infa- 
mous of  crimes,  and  of  having  murdered  the  partners  of  his 
guilt  to  conceal  it.-^ 

As  to  the  inferior  clergy,  it  miglit  be  enough  to  quote  the 
language  used  about  them  at  the  conference  at  Montmiraux 
in  1169,  where  their  general  character  was  said  to  be  atro- 
cious, a  great  number  of  them  being  church-robbers,  adulter- 
ers, highwaymen,  thieves,  ravishers  of  virgins,  incendiaries, 
and  murderers.^  For  special  illustration  we  take  a  visita- 
tion of  St.  Augustine's  Abbey  at  Canterbury  in  the  year 
1173,  undertaken  by  the  pope's  order.  The  visitors  re- 
ported not  only  that  the  abbot  w^as  corrupt,  extravagant, 
and  tyrannical,  but  that  he  had  more  children  than  the  pa- 
triarchs, in  one  village  as  many  as  ten  or  twelve  bastards. 

1  John  of  Salisbury  to  the  Archbishop  of  Sens,  1171.  The  Archbishop 
of  York  is  spoken  of  under  the  name  of  Caiaphas. 

-  "  Quum  tainen  clerici  imniundissimi  et  atrocissimi  sunt,  utpote  qui 
ex  magna  parte  sacrilegi,  adulter!,  praedones,  fures,  raptores  virginum,  in- 
cendiarii  et  homicidie  sunt."  — John  of  Salisbury  to  the  Bishop  of  Exeter. 
Utters,  11G9. 


6 


Life  and  Times  of 


"  Velut  equus  hinnit  in  fceminas,^  they  said,  "  adeo  iinpudens 
ut  libidinem  nisi  quam  publicaverit  voluptuosam  esse  iion 
reputet.  Matres  et  earuiidem  filias  incestat  pariter.  For- 
nication is  abusura  comparat  necessitati."  This  precious  ab- 
bot was  the  host  and  entertainer  of  the  four  knights  when 
they  came  to  Canterbury. 

From  separate  pictures  we  pass  to  a  sketch  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Church  of  England  written  by  a  monk  of  Christ 
Church,  Canterbury,  a  contemporary  of  Becket,  when  the 
impression  of  the  martyrdom  was  fresh,  and  miracles  were 
worked  by  his  relics  every  day  under  the  writer's  eyes. 
The  monk's  name  was  Nigellus.  He  was  precentor  of  the 
cathedral.  His  opinion  of  the  wonders  of  which  he  was  the 
witness  may  be  inferred  from  the  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
with  which,  after  describing  the  disorders  of  the  times,  he 
says  that  they  were  but  natural,  for  the  age  of  miracles  was 
past.  In  reading  him  we  feel  that  we  are  looking  on  the 
old  England  through  an  extremely  keen  pair  of  eyes.  We 
discern  too,  perhaps,  that  he  was  a  clever  fellow,  constitu- 
tionally a  satirist,  and  disappointed  of  promotion,  and  we 
make  the  necessary  allowances.  Two  of  his  works  survive, 
one  in  verse,  the  other  in  serious  prose. 

The  poem,  which  is  called  Speculum  Slullorum  ("The 
Looking-Glass  of  Fools")  contains  the  adventures  of  a 
monk  who  leaves  his  cloister  to  better  his  fortunes.  The 
monk  is  introduced  under  the  symbolic  disguise  of  an  ass. 
His  ambition  is  to  grow  a  longer  tail,  and  he  wanders  un- 
successfully over  Europe,  meeting  as  many  misfortunes  as 
Don  Quixote,  in  pursuit  of  his  object.  Finally  he  arrives 
at  Paris,  where  he  resolves  to  remain  and  study,  that  at  all '' 
events  he  may  write  after  his  name  magister  artium.  The 
seven  ^^ears'  course  being  finished,  he  speculates  on  his  fut- 
ure career.  He  decides  on  the  whole  that  he  will  be  a 
bishop,  and  pictures  to  himself  the  delight  of  his  mother 
when  she  sees  him  in  his  pontificals.    Sadly,  however,  he 


Thomas  BecJcet. 


7 


soon  remembers  that  bishops  were  not  made  of  such  stuff 
as  learned  members  of  the  universities.  Bishops  were  born 
in  barons'  castles,  and  named  as  children  to  the  sees  which 
they  were  to  occupy.  "Little  Bobby"  and  "little  Willy" 
were  carried  to  Rome  in  their  nurses'  arms  before  they 
could  speak  or  walk,  to  have  the  keys  of  heaven  committed 
to  them.  So  young  were  they  sometimes  that  a  wat  said 
once  that  it  could  not  be  told  whether  the  bishop  elect  was  a 
boy  or  a  girl.^  An  abbey  might  suit  better,  he  thought,  and 
he  ran  over  the  various  attractions  of  the  different  orders. 
All  of  them  were  more  or  less  loose  rogues,  some  worse,  some 
better.^  On  the  whole  the  monk-ass  concluded  that  he 
would  found  a  new  order,  the  rules  of  which  should  be  com- 
pounded of  the  indulgences  allowed  to  each  of  the  rest.  The 
pope  would  consent  if  approached  with  the  proper  tempta- 
tions ;  and  he  was  picturing  to  himself  the  delightful  life 
which  he  was  thenceforth  to  lead,  when  his  master  found 
him  and  cudgelled  him  back  to  the  stable. 

More  instructive,  if  less  amusing,  is  the  prose  treatise 
Contra  Curiales  et  Officiales  clericos  ("Against  Clerical 
Courtiers  and  Officials"),  dedicated  to  De  Longchamp, 
Bishop  of  Ely,  Coeur  de  Lion's  chancellor,  who  was  left  in 

1  "  Ante  prius  patrem  primum  matremque  vocare 

Quam  sciat,  aut  possit  stare  vel  ire  pedes, 
Suscipit  ecclesiae  claves  animasque  regeudas. 

In  cunis  positus  dummodo  vagit  adhuc 
Cum  nutrice  sua,  Romam  Robekimus  adibit, 

Quern  nova  sive  vetus  sportula  tecta  feret ; 
Missus  et  in  peram  veniet  Wilekinus  in  urbem, 

Curia  Roniana  tota  videbit  eum. 
Impuberes  pueros  pastores  ecclesiarum 

Vidimus  effectos  pontificesque  sacros. 
Sic  dixit  quidam  de  quodam  pontificando, 

Cum  princeps  regni  solicitaret  eum: 
'Est  puer,  et  nondum  discernere  possumus  utrum 

Foemina  vel  mas  est,  et  modo  prjesul  erit.'  " 

Satirical  Poems  of  the  Twelfth  Century,  vol.  i.  p.  106. 

2  "  Omnes  sunt  fures,  quocunque  charactere  sacro 
Signati  veniant  magnif  centque  Deum." 


8 


Life  and  Times  of 


charge  of  the  realm  when  Richard  went  to  Palestine.  De 
Longchamp's  rule  was  brief  and  stormy.  It  lasted  long 
enough,  however,  to  induce  Tsigellus  to  appeal  to  him  for  a 
reform  of  the  Church,  and  to  draw  a  picture  of  it  which  ad- 
mirers of  the  ages  and  faith  may  profitably  study. 

At  whatever  period  we  get  a  clear  view  of  the  Church  of 
England,  it  was  always  in  terrible  need  of  reform.  In  the 
twelfth  century  it  has  been  held  to  have  been  at  its  best. 
Let  us  look  then  at  the  actual  condition  of  it. 

According  to  Nigellus,  the  Church  benefices  in  England, 
almost  without  exception,  were  either  sold  by  the  patrons 
to  the  highest  bidders,  or  were  given  by  them  to  their  iiear 
relations.  The  presentees  entered  into  possession  more 
generally  even  than  the  bishops  when  children. 

Infants  in  cradles  (says  Nigellus)  are  made  archdeacons,  that 
out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  praise  may  be  per- 
fected. The  child  is  still  at  the  breast  and  he  is  a  priest  of  the 
Church.  He  can  bind  and  loose  before  he  can  speak,  and  has 
the  keys  of  heaven  before  he  has  the  use  of  his  understanding. 
At  an  age  when  an  apple  is  more  to  him  than  a  dozen  churches, 
he  is  set  to  dispense  the  sacraments,  and  the  only  anxiety  about 
him  is  a  fear  that  he  may  die.  He  is  sent  to  no  school.  He  is 
idle  and  is  never  whipped.  He  goes  to  Paris  to  be  polished, 
where  he  learns  "  the  essentials  of  a  gentleman's  education," 
dice  and  dominoes,  et  ccetera  quce  sequuntur.  He  returns  to  Eng- 
land to  hawk  and  hunt,  and  would  that  this  were  the  worst !  but 
he  has  the  forehead  of  a  harlot,  and  knows  not  to  be  ashamed. 
To  such  persons  as  these  a  bishop  without  scruple  commits  the 
charge  of  souls  —  to  men  who  are  given  over  to  the  flesh,  who 
rise  in  the  morning  to  eat,  and  sit  down  at  evening  to  drink, 
who  spend  on  loose  women  the  offerings  of  the  faithful,  who  do 
things  which  make  their  people  blush  to  speak  of  them,  while 
they  themselves  look  for  the  Jordan  to  flow  into  their  mouths, 
and  expect  each  day  to  hear  a  voice  say  to  them,  Friend,  go 
up  higher." 

Those  who  had  no  money  to  buy  their  way  with,  and  no 
friends  to  help  them,  were  obliged  to  study  something. 


Thomas  Beehet, 


9 


Having  done  with  Paris  they  would  go  on  to  Bologna,  and 
come  back  knowing  medicine  and  law  and  speaking  pure 
French  and  Italian.  Clever  fellows,  so  furnished,  contrived 
to  rise  by  pushing  themselves  into  the  service  of  bishop  or 
baron,  to  whom  "  they  were  as  eyes  to  the  blind  and  as  feet 
to  the  lame."  They  managed  the  great  man's  business; 
they  took  care  of  his  health.  They  went  to  Rome  with  his 
appeals,  undertook  negotiations  for  him  in  foreign  courts, 
and  were  repaid  in  time  by  prebends  and  rectories.  Others, 
in  spite  of  laws  of  celibacy,  married  a  patron's  daughter, 
and  got  a  benefice  along  with  her.  It  was  illegal,  but  the 
bishops  winked  at  it.  Others  made  interest  at  Rome  with 
the  cardinals,  and  by  them  were  recommended  home. 
Others  contrived  to  be  of  use  to  the  king.  Once  on  the 
road  to  preferment  the  ascent  was  easy.  The  lucky  ones, 
not  content  with  a  church  or  two,  would  have  a  benefice  in 
every  diocese  in  England,  and  would  lie,  cheat, forget  God, 
and  not  remember  man."  Their  first  gains  were  spent  in 
bribes  to  purchase  more,  and  nothing  could  satisfy  them. 
Fifteen  or  twenty  rectories  were  not  enough  without  a  stall 
in  each  cathedral.  Next  must  come  a  deanery,  and  then 
an  archdeaconry,  and  then  "  peradventure  God  will  yet  add 
unto  me  something  more." 

The  "  something  more "  was  of  course  a  bishopric,  and 
Nigellus  proceeds  to  describe  the  methods  by  which  such  of 
these  high  offices  were  reached  as  had  not  been  already  as- 
signed to  favorites.  The  prelates  expectant  hung  about  the 
court,  making  presents,  giving  dinners,  or  offering  their  ser- 
vices for  difficult  foreign  embassies.  Their  friends  meanwhile 
were  on  the  watch  for  sees  likely  to  be  vacant,  and  inquir- 
ing into  their  values.  The  age  and  health  of  the  present 
occupants  were  diligently  watched ;  the  state  of  their  teeth, 
their  eyes,  their  stomachs,  and  reported  disorders.  If  the 
accounts  were  conflicting,  the  aspirant  would  go  himself  to 
the  spot  under  pretence  of  a  pilgrimage.  If  the  wretched 
bishop  was  found  inconveniently  vigorous,  rumors  were 


10 


Life  and  Times  of 


spread  that  he  was  shamming  youth,  that  he  was  as  old  as 
Nestor,  and  was  in  his  dotage ;  if  he  was  infirm,  it  was  said 
that  men  ought  not  to  remain  in  positions  of  which  they 
could  not  discharge  the  duties ;  they  should  go  into  a  clois- 
ter.   The  king  and  the  primate  should  see  to  it. 

If  intrigue  failed,  another  road  was  tried.  The  man  of 
the  world  became  a  saint.  He  retired  to  one  or  other  of 
his  churches.  He  was  weary  of  the  earth  and  its  vanities, 
and  desired  to  spend  his  remaining  days  in  meditating  upon 
heaven.  The  court  dress  was  laid  aside.  The  wolf  clothed 
himself  in  a  sheepskin,  and  the  talk  was  only  of  prayers  and 
ostentatious  charities.  Be2:2:ars  were  fed  in  the  streets,  the 
naked  were  clothed,  the  sick  were  visited,  the  dead  were 
buried.  The  rosy  face  grew  pale,  the  plump  cheeks  be- 
came thin,  and  the  admiring  public  exclaimed.  *'  "Who  was 
like  unto  this  man  to  keep  the  law  of  the  Most  High  ? " 
Finally  some  religious  order  was  entered  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  should  be  heard  of  everywhere.  Vows  were  taken 
with  an  affectation  of  special  austerities.  The  worthy  per- 
son (who  cannot  see  and  hear  him  ?)  would  then  bewail  the 
desolations  of  the  Church,  speak  in  a  low  sad  voice,  sigh, 
walk  slowly,  and  droop  his  eyelids  ;  kings  were  charged 
with  tyranny,  and  priests  with  incontinency,  and  all  this 
that  it  might  be  spoken  of  in  high  places,  that,  when  a  see 
was  vacant  at  last,  it  might  be  said  to  him,  "  Friend,  go  up 
higher ;  '  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted.'  " 

"  Such,"  said  Nigellus, are  the  steps  in  our  days  by  which 
men  go  up  into  the  house  of  the  Lord."  By  one  or  other 
of  these  courses  success  was  at  last  attained ;  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  Crown  was  secured,  and  the  nomination 
was  sent  to  the  chapter.  But  the  conge  d'elire  was  not  yet 
peremptory.  The  forms  of  liberty  still  retained  some 
shadow  of  life  in  them,  and  fresh  efforts  were  required  to 
obtain  the  consent  of  the  electors.  The  religious  orders 
were  the  persons  used  on  these  occasions  to  produce  the  re- 
quired effect ;  and  flights  of  Templars,  Cistercians,  Carthu- 


Thomas  BecJcet. 


11 


sians,  hurried  to  the  Cathedral  city  to  persuade  the  canons 
that  the  pastor  whom  they  had  never  seen  or  never  heard 
of,  except  by  rumor,  had  more  virtues  than  existed  together 
in  any  other  human  being.  Nigellus  humorously  describes 
the  language  in  which  these  spiritual  jackals  portrayed  their 
patron's  merits. 

He  is  a  John  the  Baptist  for  sanctity,  a  Cato  for  wisdom,  a 
Tully  for  eloquence,  a  Moses  for  meekness,  a  Phineas  for  zeal, 
an  Abraham  for  faith.  Elect  him  only,  and  he  is  all  that  you 
can  desire.  You  ask  what  he  has  done  to  recommend  him. 
Granted  that  he  has  done  nothing,  God  can  raise  sons  to  Abra- 
ham out  of  the  stones.  He  is  a  boy,  you  say,  and  too  young 
for  such  an  office ;  Daniel  was  a  boy  when  he  saved  Susannah 
from  the  elders.  He  is  of  low  birth  ;  you  are  choosing  a  succes- 
sor to  a  fisherman,  not  an  heir  to  Caesar.  He  is  a  dwarf;  Jere- 
miah was  not  large.  He  is  illiterate ;  Peter  and  Andrew  were 
not  philosophers  when  they  were  called  to  be  apostles.  He  can 
speak  no  English ;  Augustine  could  speak  no  English,  yet  Au- 
gustine converted  Britain.  He  is  married  and  has  a  wife ;  the 
apostles  ordered  such  to  be  promoted.  He  has  divorced  his 
wife  ;  Christ  separated  St.  John  from  his  bride.  He  is  immoral ; 
so  was  St.  Boniface.  He  is  a  fool;  God  has  chosen  the  foolish 
things  of  this  world  to  confound  the  wise.  He  is  a  coward;  St. 
Joseph  was  a  coward.  He  is  a  glutton  and  a  wine-bibber ;  so 
Christ  was  said  to  be.  He  is  a  sluggard  ;  St.  Peter  could  not 
remain  for  an  hour  awake.  He  is  a  striker;  Peter  struck 
Malchus.  He  is  quarrelsome ;  Paul  quarreled  with  Barnabas. 
He  is  disobedient  to  his  superiors;  Paul  withstood  Peter.  He  is 
a  man  of  blood;  Moses  killed  the  Egyptian.  He  is  blind;  so 
was  Paul  before  he  was  converted.  He  is  dumb;  Zacharias  was 
dumb.  He  is  all  faults,  and  possesses  not  a  single  virtue;  God 
will  make  his  grace  so  much  more  to  abound  in  him. 

Such  eloquence  and  such  advocates  were  generally  irre- 
sistible. If,  as  sometimes  happened,  the  Crown  had  named 
a  person  exceptionally  infamous,  or  if  the  chapter  was  ex- 
ceptionally obdurate,  other  measures  lay  behind.  Govern- 
ment officers  would  come  down  and  talk  of  enemies  to  the 
commonwealth.    A  bishop  of  an  adjoining  see  would  hint 


12 


Life  and  Times  of 


at  excommunication.  The  canons  were  worked  on  sep- 
arately, bribed,  coaxed,  or  threatened.  The  younger  of 
them  were  promised  the  places  of  the  seniors.  The  seniors 
were  promised  fresh  offices  for  themselves,  and  promotion 
for  their  relations.  If  there  were  two  candidates  and  two 
parties,  both  sides  bribed,  and  the  longest  purse  gained  the 
day.  Finally  the  field  was  won.  Decent  members  of  the 
chapter  sighed  over  the  disgrace,  but  reflected  that  miracles 
could  not  be  looked  for.-^  The  see  could  not  remain  vacant 
till  a  saint  could  be  found  to  fill  it.  They  gave  their  voices 
as  desired.  The  choice  was  declared,  the  bells  rang,  the 
organ  pealed,  and  the  choir  chanted  Te  Deum. 

The  one  touch  necessary  to  complete  the  farce  was  then 
added :  — 

The  bishop  elect,  all  in  tears  for  joy,  exclaims,  "  Depart  from 
me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man.  Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  unworthy. 
I  cannot  bear  the  burden  which  you  lay  upon  me.  Alas  for 
my  calamity!  Let  me  alone,  my  beloved  brethren  —  let  me 
alone  in  my  humble  state.  You  know  not  what  you  do."  .... 
He  falls  back  and  affects  to  swoon.  He  is  borne  to  the  arch- 
bishop to  be  consecrated.  Other  bishops  are  summoned  to 
assist,  and  all  is  finished.  ^ 

The  scene  now  changed.  The  object  was  gained,  the 
mask  was  dropped,  and  the  bishop,  having  reached  the  goal 
of  his  ambition,  could  afford  to  show  himself  in  his  true 
colors. 

He  has  bound  himself  (goes  on  Nigellus)  to  be  a  teacher  of 
his  flock.  How  can  he  teach  those  whom  he  sees  but  once  a 
year,  and  not  a  hundredth  part  of  whom  he  even  sees  at  all  ? 
If  any  one  in  the  diocese  wants  the  bishop,  he  is  told  the  bishop 
is  at  court  on  affairs  of  state.    He  hears  a  hasty  mass  once  a 

1  "Xon  sunt  hpec  miraculorum  tempora." 

2  Now  and  then  it  happened  that  bishops  refused  to  attend  on  these 
occasions,  when  the  person  to  be  consecrated  was  notoriously  infamous. 
Nigellus  says  that  one  bishop  at  least  declined  to  assist  at  the  consecra- 
tion of  Roger,  Archbishop  of  York. 


Thomas  Becket, 


13 


day,  non  sine  tcedio  (not  without  being  bored).  The  rest  of  his 
time  he  gives  to  business  or  pleasure,  and  is  not  bored.  The 
rich  get  justice  from  him;  the  poor  get  no  justice.  If  his  met- 
ropolitan interferes  with  him,  he  appeals  to  Rome,  and  Rome 
protects  him  if  he  is  Avilling  to  pay  for  it.  At  Rome  the  abbot 
buys  his  freedom  from  the  control  of  the  bishop  ;  the  bishop 
buys  his  freedom  from  the  control  of  the  archbishop.  The 
bishop  dresses  as  the  knights  dress.  When  his  cap  is  on  you 
cannot  distinguish  him  at  council  from  a  peer.  The  layman 
swears,  the  bishop  swears,  and  the  bishop  swears  the  hardest. 
The  layman  hunts,  the  bishop  hunts.  The  layman  hawks,  the 
bishop  hawks.  Bishop  and  layman  sit  side  Jjy  side  at  council 
and  Treasury  boards.  Bishop  and  layman  ride  side  by  side  into 
battle.!  What  will  not  bishops  do  ?  Was  ever  crime  more 
atrocious  than  that  which  was  lately  committed  in  the  church  at 
Coventry  ?  ^  When  did  pagan  ever  deal  with  Christian  as  the 
bishop  did  with  the  monks?  I,  Nigellus,  saw  with  my  own  eyes, 
after  the  monks  were  ejected,  harlots  openly  introduced  into  the 
cloister  and  chapter  house  to  lie  all  night  there,  as  in  a  brothel, 
with  their  paramours.^  Such  are  the  works  of  bishops  in  these 
days  of  ours.  This  is  what  they  do,  or  permit  to  be  done;  and 
so  cheap  has  grown  the  dignity  of  the  ecclesiastical  order  that 
you  will  easier  find  a  cowherd  well  educated  than  a  presbyter, 
and  an  industrious  duck  than  a  literate  parson. 

So  far  Nigellus.  We  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  state  of 
the  Church  had  changed  unfavorably  in  the  twenty  years 

1  Even  in  the  discharge  of  their  special  functions  the  spiritual  character 
was  scarcely  more  apparent.  When  the}'  went  on  visitation,  and  children 
were  brought  to  them  to  be  confirmed,  they  gave  a  general  blessing  and 
did  not  so  much  as  alight  from  their  horses.  Becket  was  the  only  prelate 
who  observed  common  decency  on  these  occasions.  "Non  enim  erat  ei 
ut  plerisque,  imino  ut  fere  omnibus  episcopis  moris  est,  ministerium  con- 
firmationis  equo  insidendo  peragere,  sed  ob  sacramenti  venerationem  equo 
desilire  et  stando  pueris  manum  imponere." — Materials  for  the  History 
of  Thomas  Becket,  vol.  ii.  p.  164. 

2  In  the  year  1191,  Hugh,  Bishop  of  Coventry,  violently  expelled  the 
monks  from  the  cathedral  there,  and  instituted  canons  in  their  places. 

3  "  Testis  mihi  Deus  est  quod  dolens  et  tristis  admodum  refero  quod  in 
ecclesia  Coventrensi  oculis  propriis  aspexi.  In  claustro  et  capitulo  vidi 
ego  et  alii  nonnuUi  ejeetis  monachis  meretrices  publice  introductas  et  totS 
nocte  cum  lenonibus  decubare  sicut  in  lupanari." 


14 


Life  and  Times  of 


,  which  followed  Becket's  martyrdom,  or  we  should  have  to 
conclude  that  the  spiritual  enthusiasm  which  the  martyrdom 
undoubtedly  excited  had  injured,  and  not  improved,  public 
morality. 

The  prelates  and  clergy  with  whom  Henry  the  Second 
contended,  if  different  at  all  from  those  of  the  next  genera- 
tion, must  have  been  rather  worse  than  better,  and  we  cease 
to  be  surprised  at  the  language  in  which  the  king  spoke  of 
them  at  Montmiraux. 

Speaking  generally,  at  the  time  when  Becket  declared 
war  against  the  State,  the  Church,  from  the  Vatican  to  the 
smallest  archdeaconry,  was  saturated  with  venality.  The 
bishops  were  mere  men  of  the  world.  The  Church  bene- 
fices were  publicly  bought  and  sold,  given  away  as  a  provi- 
sion to  children,  or  held  in  indefinite  numbers  by  ambitious 
men  who  cared  only  for  wealth  and  power.  The  mass  of 
the  common  clergy  were  ignorant,  dissolute,  and  lawless, 
unable  to  be  legally  married,  and  living  with  concubines  in 
contempt  or  evasion  of  their  own  rules.  In  character  and 
conduct  the  laity  were  superior  to  the  clergy.  They  had 
wives,  and  were  therefore  less  profligate.  They  made  no 
pretensions  to  mysterious  power  and  responsibilities,  and 
therefore  they  were  not  hypocrites.  They  were  violent, 
they  were  vicious,  yet  they  had  the  kind  of  belief  in  the 
truth  of  religion  which  bound  the  rope  about  young  Henry's 
neck  and  dragged  him  from  his  bed  to  die  upon  the  ashes, 
which  sent  them  in  tens  of  thousands  to  perish  on  the  Syr- 
ian sands  to  recover  the  sepulchre  of  Christ  from  the  infi- 
del. The  life  beyond  the  grave  was  as  assured  to  them  as 
the  life  upon  earth.  In  the  sacraments  and  in  the  priest's 
absolution  lay  the  one  hope  of  escaping  eternal  destruction. 
And  while  they  could  feel  no  respect  for  the  clergy  as  men, 
they  feared  their  powers  and  reverenced  their  ofhce.  Both 
of  laity  and  clergy  the  religion  was  a  superstition,  but  in  the 
laity  the  superstition  was  combined  with  reverence,  and 
implied  a  real  belief  in  the  divine  authority  which  it  sym- 


Thomas  Bechet. 


15 


bolized.  The  clergy,  the  supposed  depositaries  of  the  su- 
pernatural qualities  assigned  to  them,  found  it  probably 
more  difficult  to  believe  in  themselves,  and  the  unreality  re- 
venged itself  upon  their  natures. 

Bearing  in  mind  these  qualities  in  the  two  orders,  we 
proceed  to  the  history  of  Becket. 


16 


Life  and  Times  of 


CHAPTER  11. 

Thomas  Becket  was  boru  in  London  in  the  year  1118.^ 
His  father,  Gilbert  Becket.  was  a  citizen  in  moderate  cir- 
cumstances.^ His  name  denotes  Saxon  extraction.  Few 
Normans  as  yet  were  to  be  found  in  the  English  towns  con- 
descending to  trade.  Of  his  mother  nothing  authentic  is 
known,"  except  that  she  was  a  religious  woman  who  brought 
up  her  children  in  the  fear  of  God.  Many  anecdotes  are 
related  of  his  early  years,  but  the  atmosphere  of  legend  in 
which  his  history  was  so  early  enveloped  renders  them  all 
suspicious.  His  parents,  at  any  rate,  both  died  when  he 
was  still  very  young,  leaving  him,  ill  provided  for,  to  the 
care  of  his  father's  friends.  One  of  them,  a  man  of  wealth, 
Richard  de  I'Aigle,  took  charge  of  the  tall,  handsome,  clever 
lad.  He  was  sent  to  school  at  Merton  Abbey,  in  Surrey, 
and  afterwards  to  Oxford.  In  his  vacations  he  was  thrown 
among  young  men  of  rank  and  fortune,  hunting  and  hawk- 
ing with  them,  cultivating  his  mind  with  the  ease  of  con- 
scious ability,  and  doubtless  not  inattentive  to  the  events 
which  were  going  on  around  him.  In  his  nursery  he  must 
have  heard  of  the  sinking  of  the  White  Ship  in  the  Chan- 
nel with  Henry  the  First's  three  children.  Prince  William, 
his  brother  Richard,  and  their  sister.  "When  he  was  seven 
years  old,  he  may  have  listened  to  the  jests  of  the  citizens 

1  Or  1117.    The  exact  date  is  uncertain. 

2  "Xec  omnino  infimi"  are  Becket's  words  as  to  the  rank  of  his 
parents. 

3  The  story  that  she  was  a  Saracen  is  a  late  legend.  Becket  was  after- 
wards taunted  with  the  lowness  of  his  birth.  The  absence  of  any  allusion 
to  a  fact  so  curious  if  it  was  true,  either  in  the  taunt  or  in  Becket's  reply 
to  it,  may  be  taken  as  conclusive. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


17 


at  his  father's  table  over  the  misadventure  in  London  of  the 
cardinal  legate,  John  of  Crema.  The  legate  had  come  to 
England  to  preside  at  a  council  and  pass  laws  to  part  the 
clergy  from  their  wives.  While  the  council  was  going 
forward,  his  Eminence  was  himself  detected  in  re  meretricid^ 
to  general  astonishment  and  scandal.  In  the  same  year  the 
Emperor  Henry  died.  His  widow,  the  English  Matilda, 
came  home,  and  was  married  again  soon  after  to  Geoffrey 
of  Anjou.  In  1134  the  English  barons  swore  fealty  to  her 
and  her  young  son,  afterwards  King  Henry  the  Second. 
The  year  following  her  father  died.  Her  cousin,  Stephen 
of  Blois,  broke  his  oath  and  seized  the  crown,  and  general 
distraction  and  civil  war  followed,  while  from  beyond  the 
seas  the  Levant  ships,  as  they  came  up  the  river,  brought 
news  of  bloody  battles  in  Syria  and  slaughter  of  Christians 
and  infidels.  To  live  in  stirring  times  is  the  best  education 
of  a  youth  of  intellect.  After  spending  three  years  in  a 
house  of  business  in  the  city,  Becket  contrived  to  recom- 
mend himself  to  Theobald,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The 
archbishop  saw  his  talents,  sent  him  to  Paris,  and  thence  to 
Bologna  to  study  law,  and  employed  him  afterwards  in  the 
most  confidential  negotiations.  The  description  by  Nigellus 
of  the  generation  of  a  bishop  might  have  been  copied  line 
for  line  from  Becket's  history.  The  question  of  the  day  was 
the  succession  to  the  crown.  Was  Stephen's  son,  Eustace, 
the  heir  ?  Or  was  Matilda's  son,  Henry  of  Anjou  ?  Theo- 
bald was  for  Henry,  so  far  as  he  dared  to  show  himself. 
Becket  was  sent  secretly  to  Rome  to  move  the  pope.  The 
struggle  ended  with  a  compromise.  Stephen  was  to  reign 
for  his  life.  Henry  was  peace*ably  to  follow  him.  The 
arrangement  might  have  been  cut  again  by  the  sword.  But 
Eustace  immediately  afterwards  died.  In  the  same  year 
Stephen  followed  him,  and  Henry  the  Second  became  king 
of  England.,  With  all  these  intricate  negotiations  the  fut- 
ure martyr  was  intimately  connected,  and  by  his  remarkable 
talents  especially  recommended  himself  to  the  new  king. 
2 


18 


Life  and  Times  of 


No  one  called  afterwards  to  an  important  position  had  better 
opportunities  of  acquainting  himself  with  the  spirit  of  the 
age,  or  the  characters  of  the  principal  actors  in  it.^  If  his 
services  were  valuable,  his  reward  was  magnificent.  He 
was  not  a  priest,  but  again  precisely  as  Nigellus  describes, 
he  was  loaded  with  lucrative  church  benefices.  He  was 
Provost  of  Beverley,  he  was  Archdeacon  of  Canterbury,  he 
was  rector  of  an  unknown  number  of  parishes,  and  had  stalls 
in  several  cathedrals.  It  is  noticeable  that  afterwards,  in 
the  heat  of  the  battle  in  which  he  earned  his  saintship,  he 
was  so  far  from  looking  back  with  regret  on  this  accumula- 
tion of  preferments  that  he  paraded  them  as  an  evidence  of 
his  early  consequence.^  A  greater  rise  lay  immediately 
before  him.  Henry  the  Second  was  twenty-two  years  old 
at  his  accession.  At  this  time  he  was  the  most  jjowerful 
prince  in  Western  Europe.  He  was  Duke  of  Normandy 
and  Count  of  Anjou.  His  wife  Eleanor,  the  divorced  queen 
of  Lewis  of  France,  had  brought  with  her  Aquitaine  and 
Poitou.  The  reigning  pope,  Adrian  the  Fourth,  was  an 
Englishman,  and,  to  the  grief  and  perplexity  of  later  gene- 
rations of  Irishmen,  gave  the  new  king  permission  to  add 
the  Island  of  the  Saints  to  his  already  vast  dominions. 
Over  Scotland  the  English  monarchs  asserted  a  semi-feudal 
sovereignty,  to  which  Stephen,  at  the  battle  of  the'  Standard, 
had  given  a  semblance  of  reality.    Few  English  princes 

1  Very  strange  things  were  continually  happening.  In  1154  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York  was  poisoned  in  the  Eucharist  by  gome  of  his  clergy. 
"Eodem  anno  Wilhelmus  Eboracensis  archiepiscopus,  proditione  clerico- 
rum  suorum  post  perceptionem  Eucharistife  infra  ablutiones  liquore  lethali 
infectus,  extinctus  est."  (Hoveden,  vol.  i.  p.  213.)  Becket  could  not  fail 
to  have  heard  of  this  piece  of  villainy  and  to  have  made  his  own  reflections 
upon  it. 

2  Foliot,  Bishop  of  London,  told  him  that  he  owed  his  rise  in  life  to  the 
king.  Becket  replied  :  "  Ad  tenipus  quo  me  rex  ministerio  suo  praestitit, 
archidiaconatus  Cantuarensis,  praepositura  Beverlaci,  pluriniae  ecclesioe,  prae- 
bendse  nonnullae,  alia  etiam  non  pauca  qus  nominis  mei  erant  possessio 
tunc  temporis,  adeo  tenuem  ut  dicis,  quantum  ad  ea  quae  mundi  sunt  con- 
tradicunt  me  fuisse." 


Thomas  Becket. 


19 


have  commenced  their  career  with  fairer  prospects  than  the 
second  Henry. 

The  state  of  England  itself  demanded  his  first  attention. 
The  usurpation  of  Stephen  had  left  behind  it  a  legacy  of 
disorder.  The  authority  of  the  Crown  had  been  shaken. 
The  barons,  secure  behind  the  walls  of  their  castles,  limited 
their  obedience  by  their  inclinations.  The  Church,  an  im- 
perium  in  imperw,  however  corrupt  in  practice,  was  aggres- 
sive as  an  institution,  and  was  encroaching  on  the  State 
with  organized  system.  The  principles  asserted  by  Greg- 
ory the  Seventh  had  been  establishing  themselves  grad- 
ually for  the  past  century,  and  in  theory  were  no  longer 
questioned.  The  power  of  the  Crown,  it  was  freely  ad- 
mitted, was  derived  from  God.  As  little  was  it  to  be 
doubted  that  the  clergy  were  the  ministers  of  God  in  a 
nearer  and  higher  sense  than  a  layman  could  pretend  to  be, 
holding  as  they  did  the  power  of  the  keys,  and  able  to  pun- 
ish disobedience  .by  final  exclusion  from  heaven.  The  prin- 
ciple was  simple.  The  application  only  was  intricate.  The 
clergy,  though  divine  as  an  order,  were  as  frail  in  their  in- 
dividual aspect  as  common  mortals,  as  ambitious,  as  worldly, 
as  licentious,  as  unprincipled,  as  violent,  as  wicked,  as  much 
needing  the  restraint  of  law  and  the  policeman  as  their  sec- 
ular brethren,  perhaps  needing  it  more.  How  was  the 
law  to  be  brought  to  bear  on  a  class  of  persons  who  claimed 
to  be  superior  to  law  ?  King  Henry's  piety  was  above  sus- 
picion, but  he  was  at  all  points  a  sovereign,  especially  im- 
patient of  anarchy.  The  conduct  of  too  many  ecclesiastics, 
regular  and  secular  alike,  was  entirely  intolerable,  and  a 
natural  impatience  was  spreading  through  the  country,  with 
which  the  king  perhaps  showed  early  symptoms  of  sym- 
pathizing. Archbishop  Theobald,  at  any  rate,  was  uneasy 
at  the  part  which  he  might  take,  and  thought  that  he 
needed  some  one  at  his  side  to  guide  him  in  salutary  courses. 
At  Theobald's  instance,  in  the  second  year  of  Henry's  reign, 
Becket  became  Chancellor  of  England,  being  then  thirty- 
f^BYen  years  old. 


20 


Life  and  Times  of 


In  his  new  dignity  he  seemed  at  first  likely  to  disappoint 
the  archbishop's  expectations  of  him.  Some  of  his  biog- 
raphers, indeed,  cluim  as  his  perpetual  merit  that  he  op- 
posed the  hestias  curice,  or  court  wild  beasts,  as  churchmen 
called  the  anticlerical  party.  John  of  Salisbury,  on  the 
other  hand,  describes  him  as  a  magnificent  triHer,  a  scorner 
of  law  and  the  clergy,  and  given  to  scurrilous  jesting  at 
laymen's  parties.^  At  any  rate,  except  in  the  arbitrariness 
of  his  character,  he  show^ed  no  features  of  the  Becket  of 
Catholic  tradition. 

Omnipotent  as  Wolsey  after  him,  he  was  no  less  magni- 
ficent in  his  outward  bearing.  His  dress  was  gorgeous,  his 
retinue  of  knights  as  splendid  as  the  king's.  His  hospitali- 
ties were  boundless.  His  expenditure  was  enormous.  How 
the  means  for  it  were  supplied  is  uncertain.  The  revenue 
was  wholly  in  his  hands.  The  king  was  often  on  the  conti- 
nent, and  at  such  times  the  chancellor  governed  everything. 
He  retained  his  Church  benefices  —  the  archdeaconry  of 
Canterbury  certainly,  and  probably  the  rest.  Vast  sums 
fell  irregularly  into  Chancery  from  wardships  and  vacant 
sees  and  abbeys.  All  this  Becket  received,  and  never  ac- 
counted for  the  whole  of  them.  Whatever  might  be  the 
explanation,  the  wealthiest  peer  in  England  did  not  main- 
tain a  more  costly  household,  or  appear  in  public  with  a 
more  princely  surrounding. 

Of  his  administration  his  adoring  and  admiring  biog- 
rapher, the  monk  Grim,  who  was  present  at  his  martyr- 
dom, draws  a  more  than  unfavorable  picture,  and  even 
charges  him  with  cruelty  and  ferocity.  "The  persons  that 
he  slew,"  says  Grim,  the  persons  that  he  robbed  of  their 
property,  no  one  can  enumerate.  Attended  by  a  large  com- 
pany of  knights,  he  would  assail  whole  communities,  destroy 

1  "Dum  magnificus  erat  nugator  in  curia,  dum  legis  videbatur  con- 
temptor  et  cleri,  dum  scurriles,  cum  potentioribus  sectabatur  ineptias,  mag- 
nus  habebatur,  clarus  erat  et  acceptus  omnibus."  — John  of  Salisbury  to 
the  Bishop  of  Exeter.   Letters,  1166. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


21 


cities  and  towns,  villages  and  farms,  and,  without  remorse 
or  pity,  would  give  them  to  devouring  flames."  ^ 

Such  words  give  a  new  aspect  to  the  demand  afterwards 
made  that  he  should  answer  for  his  proceedings  as  chancel- 
lor, and  lend  a  new  meaning  to  his  unwillingness  to  reply. 
At  this  period  the  only  virtue  which  Grim  allows  him  to 
have  preserved  unsullied  was  his  chastity. 

In  foreign  politics  he  was  meanwhile  as  much  engaged  as 
ever.  The  anomalous  relations  of  the  king  with  Lewis  the 
Seventh,  whose  vassal  he  was  for  his  continental  dominions, 
while  he  was  his  superior  in  power,  were  breaking  continu- 
ally into  quarrels,  and  sometimes  into  war.  The  anxiety  of 
Henry,  however,  was  always  to  keep  the  peace,  if  possible. 
In  1157  Becket  was  sent  to  Paris  to  negotiate  an  alliance 
between  the  Princess  Margaret,  Lewis's  daughter,  and 
Henry's  ehlest  son.  The  prince  was  then  seven  years  old. 
the  little  lady  was  three.  Three  years  later  they  were 
actually  married,  two  cardinals,  Henry  of  Pisa  and  William 
of  Pavia,  coming  as  legates  from  the  pope  to  be  present  on 
the  ausrust  occasion.  France  and  Endand  had  been  at  that 
time  drawn  together  by  a  special  danger  which  threatened 
Christendom.  In  1159  Pope  Adrian  died.  Alexander  the 
Third  was  chosen  to  succeed  him  with  the  usual  formalities, 
but  the  election  was  challenged  by  Frederic  Barbarossa, 
who  set  up  an  antipope.  The  Catholic  Church  was  split  in 
two.  Frederic  invaded  Italy,  Alexander  was  driven  out  of 
Rome  and  took  shelter  in  France  at  Sens.  Henry  and 
Lewis  gave  him  their  united  support,  and  forgot  their  own 
quarrels  in  the  common  cause.  Henry,  it  was  universally 
admitted,  was  heartily  in  earnest  for  Pope  Alexander. 
The  pope,  on  his  part,  professed  a  willingness  and  an  anx- 
iety to  be  of  corresponding  service  to  Henry.    The  king 

1  "Quantis  autem  necem,  quantis  rerum  omnium  proscriptionem  intu- 
lerit,  quis  enumeret?  Valida  namque  stipatus  militiim  manu  civitates  ag- 
gressus  est.  Delevit  urbes  et  oppida;  villas  et  prsedia  absque  miserationis 
intuitu  voraci  consumpsit  incendio." —  Materials  for  the  History  of  Thomas 
Becket,  vol.  ii.  pp.  364,  3G5. 


22 


Life  and  Times  of 


considered  tlie  moment  a  favorable  one  for  takinof  in  hand 
the  reform  of  the  clergy,  not  as  against  the  Holy  See,  but 
with  the  Holy  See  in  active  cooperation  with  him.  On  this 
side  he  anticipated  no  difficulty  if  he  could  find  a  proper 
instrument  at  home,  and  that  instrument  he  considered  him- 
self to  possess  in  his  chancellor.  Where  the  problem  was 
to  reconcile  the  rights  of  the  clergy  with  the  law  of  the 
land,  it  would  be  convenient,  even  essential,  that  the  chan- 
cellorship and  the  primacy  should  be  combined  in  the  same 
person.  Barbarossa  was  finding  the  value  of  such  a  combi- 
nation in  Germany,  where,  with  the  Archbishop  of  Cologne 
for  a  chancellor  of  the  Empire,  he  was  carrying  out  an  ec- 
clesiastical revolution. 

It  is  not  conceivable  that  on  a  subject  of  such  vast  im- 
portance the  king  should  have  never  taken  the  trouble  to 
ascertain  Becket's  views.  The  condition  of  the  clergy  was 
a  pressing  and  practical  perplexity.  Becket  was  his  confi- 
dential minister,  the  one  person  whose  advice  he  most 
sought  in  any  difficulty,  and  on  whose  judgment  he  most  re- 
lied. Becket,  in  all  probability,  must  have  led  the  king  to 
believe  that  he  agreed  with  him.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
whatever  that  he  must  have  allowed  the  king  to  form  his 
plans  without  having  advised  him  against  them,  and  without 
having  cautioned  him  that  from  himself  there  was  to  be 
looked  for  nothing  but  opposition.  The  king,  in  fiict,  ex- 
pected no  opposition.  So  far  as  he  had  known  Becket 
hitherto,  he  had  known  him  as  a  statesman  and  a  man  of 
the  world.  If  Becket  had  ever  in  this  capacity  expressed 
views  unfavorable  to  the  king's  intentions,  he  would  not 
have  failed  to  remind  him  of  it  in  their  subsequent  contro- 
versy. That  he  was  unable  to  appeal  for  such  a  purpose  to 
the  king's  recollection  must  be  taken  as  a  proof  that  he 
never  did  express  unfavorable  views.  If  we  are  not  to  sup- 
pose that  he  was  deliberately  insincere,  we  may  believe  that 
he  changed  his  opinion  in  consequence  of  the  German 
schism.    But  even  so  an  honorable  man  would  have  given 


Thomas  Beclcet, 


23 


his  master  warning  of  the  alteration,  and  it  is  certain  that 
he  did  not.  He  did,  we  are  told,  feel  some  scruples.  The 
ecclesiastical  conscience  had  not  wholly  destroyed  the  hu- 
man conscience,  and  the  king  had  been  a  generous  master 
to  him.  But  his  difficulties  were  set  aside  by  the  casuistries 
of  a  Roman  legate.  Archbishop  Tlieobald  died  when  the 
two  cardinals  were  in  Normandy  for  the  marriage  of  Prince 
Henry  and  the  Princess  Margaret.  There  was  a  year  of 
delay  before  the  choice  was  finally  made.  Becket  asked 
the  advice  of  Cardinal  Henry  of  Pisa.  Cardinal  Henry 
told  him  that  it  was  for  the  interest  of  the  Church  that  he 
should  accept  the  archbishopric,  and  that  he  need  not  com- 
municate convictions  which  would  interfere  with  his  ap- 
pointment. They  probably  both  felt  that,  if  Becket  de- 
clined, the  king  would  find  some  other  prelate  who  would 
be  more  pliant  in  his  hands.  Thus  at  last  the  decision  was 
arrived  at.  The  Empress  Matilda  warned  her  son  against 
Becket's  dangerous  character,  but  the  warning  was  in  vain. 
The  king  pressed  the  archbishopric  on  Becket,  and  Becket 
accepted  it.  The  Chief  Justice  Richard  de  Luci  went  over 
with  three  bishops  to  Canterbury  in  the  spring  of  1162  to 
gain  the  consent  of  the  chapter ;  the  chapter  yielded  not 
without  reluctance.  The  clergy  of  the  province  gave  their 
acquiescence  at  a  council  held  afterwards  at  Westminster, 
but  with  astonishment,  misgiving,  and  secret  complaints. 
Becket  at  this  time  was  not  even  a  priest,  and  was  known 
only  to  the  world  as  an  unscrupulous  and  tyrannical  minis- 
ter. The  consent  was  given,  however.  The  thing  was 
done.  On  the  2d  of  June  (1162)  Becket  received  his 
priest's  orders  from  the  Bishop  of  Rochester.  On  the  od 
he  was  consecrated  in  his  own  cathedral. 


24 


Life  and  Times  of 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Becket  was  now  forty-four  years  old.  The  king  was 
thirty.  The  ascendency  which  Becket  had  hitherto  exer- 
cised over  his  sovereign  through  the  advantage  of  age  was 
necessarily  diminishing  as  the  king  came  to  maturity,  and 
the  two  great  antagonists,  as  they  were  henceforth  to  be, 
were  more  fairly  matched  than  Becket  perhaps  expected  to 
find  them.  The  archbishop  was  past  the  time  of  life  at 
which  the  character  can  be  seriously  changed.  After  forty 
men  may  alter  their  opinions,  their  policy,  and  their  con- 
duct ;  but  they  rarely  alter  their  dispositions ;  and  Becket 
remained  as  violent,  as  overbearing,  as  ambitious,  as  un- 
scrupulous, as  he  had  shown  himself  when  chancellor, 
though  the  objects  at  which  he  was  henceforth  to  aim  were 
entirely  different.  It  would  be  well  for  his  memory  were 
it  possible  to  credit  him  with  a  desire  to  reform  the  Church 
of  which  he  was  the  head,  to  purge  away  the  corruption  of 
it,  to  punish  himself  the  moral  disorders  of  the  clergy,  while 
he  denied  the  right  to  punish  them  to  the  State.  We  seek 
in  vain,  however,  for  the  slighest  symptoms  of  any  such 
desire.  Throughout  his  letters  there  is  not  the  faintest 
consciousness  that  anything  was  amiss.  He  had  been  him- 
self amongst  the  grossest  of  pluralists  ;  so  far  from  being 
ashamed  of  it,  he  still  aimed  at  retaining  the  most  lucrative 
of  his  benefices.  The  idea  with  which  his  miud  was  filled 
was  not  the  purity  of  the  Church,  but  the  privilege  and 
supremacy  of  the  Church.  As  chancellor  he  had  been  at 
the  head  of  the  State  under  the  king.  As  archbishop,  in 
the  name  of  the  Church,  he  intended  to  be  head  both  of 
State  and  king  ;  to  place  the  pope,  and  himself  as  the 


Thomas  Becket. 


25 


pope's  legate,  in  the  position  of  God's  vicegerents.  Wlien 
he  found  it  written  that  "  by  me  kings  reign  and  princes 
decree  judgment,"  he  appropriated  the  language  to  himself, 
and  his  single  aim  was  to  convert  the  words  thus  construed 
into  reality. 

The  first  public  intimation  which  Becket  gave  of  his  in- 
tentions was  his  resignation  of  the  chancellorship.  He  had 
been  made  archbishop  that  the  offices  might  be  combined ; 
he  was  no  sooner  consecrated  than  he  informed  the  king 
that  the  duties  of  his  sacred  calling  left  him  no  leisure  for 
secular  business.  He  did  not  even  wait  for  Henry's  return 
from  Normandy.  He  placed  the  great  seal  in  the  hands  of 
the  chief  justice,  the  young  prince,  and  the  barons  of  the 
Exchequer,  demanding  and  receiving  from  them  a  hurried 
discharge  of  his  responsibilities.  The  accounts,  for  all  that 
appears,  were  never  examined.  Grim,  perhaps,  when  ac- 
cusing him  of  rapine  and  murder,  was  referring  to  a  sup- 
pression of  a  disturbance  in  Aquitaine,  not  to  any  special 
act  of  whic^  he  was  guilty  in  England;  but  the  unsparing 
ruthlessuess  wliich  he  displayed  on  that  occasion  was  an 
indication  of  the  disposition  which  was  displayed  in  all  that 
he  did,  and  he  was  wise  in  anticipating  inquiry. 

The  king  had  not  recovered  from  his  surprise  at  such 
unwelcome  news  when  he  learned  that  his  splendid  min- 
ister had  laid  aside  his  magnificence  and  had  assumed  the 
habit  of  a  monk,  that  he  was  always  in  tears  —  tears  which 
flowed  from  him  with  such  miraculous  abundance  as  to  evi- 
dence the  working  in  him  of  some  special  grace,^  or  else  of 
some  special  purpose.  His  general  conduct  at  Canterbury 
was  equally  startling.  One  act  of  charity,  indeed,  he  had 
overlooked  which  neither  in  conscience  nor  prudence  should 
have  been  forgotten.  The  mother  of  Pope  Adrian  the 
Fourth  was  living  somewhere  in  his  province  in  extreme 

1  "Ut  putaretur  possessor  irrigui  superioris  et  inferioris."  The  "supe- 
rior" fountain  of  tears  was  the  love  of  God  ;  the  "inferior"  was  the  fear 
of  hell. 


26 


Life  and  Times  of 


poverty,  starving,  it  was  said,  of  cold  and  hunger.  The  see 
of  Canterbury,  as  well  as  England,  owed  much  to  Pope 
Adrian,  and  Becket's  neglect  of  a  person  who  was  at  least 
entitled  to  honorable  maintenance  was  not  unobserved  at 
Rome.  Otherwise  his  generosity  was  profuse.  Archbishop 
Theobald  had  doubled  the  charities  of  his  predecessor, 
Becket  doubled  Theobald's.  Mendicants  swarmed  about 
the  gates  of  the  palace ;  thirteen  of  them  were  taken  in 
daily  to  have  their  dinners,  to  have  their  feet  washed  by 
the  archiepiscopal  hands,  and  to  be  dismissed  each  with  a 
silver  penny  in  his  pocket.  The  tears  and  the  benevolent 
humiliations  were  familiar,  in  aspirants  after  high  church 
offices ;  but  Becket  had  nothing  more  to  gain.  What 
could  be  the  meaning  of  so  sudden  and  so  startling  a  trans- 
formation ?  Was  it  penitence  for  his  crimes  as  chancellor? 
The  teai's  looked  like  penitence ;  but  there  were  other 
symptoms  of  a  more  aggressive  kind.  He  was  no  sooner 
in  his  seat  than  he  demanded  the  restoration  of  estates  that 
his  predecessors  had  alienated.  He  gave  judgment  in  his 
own  court  in  his  own  favor,  and  enforced  his  own  decrees. 
Knights  holding  their  lands  from  the  Church  on  military 
tenure  had  hitherto  done  homage  for  them  to  the  Crown. 
The  new  archbishop  demanded  the  homage  for  himself. 
He  required  the  Earl  of  Clare  to  swear  fealty  to  him  for 
Tunbridge  Castle.  The  Earl  of  Clare  refused  and  appealed 
to  the  king,  and  the  archbishop  dared  not  at  once  strike 
so  large  a  quarry.  But  he  showed  his  teeth  with  a 
smaller  offender.  Sir  Willliam  Eynesford,  one  of  the 
king's  knights,  was  patron  of  a  benefice  in  Kent.  The 
archbishop  presented  a  priest  to  it.  The  knight  ejected 
the  archbishop's  nominee,  and  the  archbishop  excommuni- 
cated the  knight.  Such  peremptory  sentences,  pronounced 
without  notice,  had  a  special  inconvenience  when  directed 
against  persons  immediately  about  the  king.  Excommuni- 
cation was  like  the  plague ;  whoever  came  near  the  infected 
body  himself  caught  the  contagion,  and  the  king  might  be 


Thomas  BecTcet. 


27 


poisoned  without  his  knowledge.  It  had  been  usual  in 
these  cases  to  pay  the  king  the  courtesy  of  consulting  him. 
Becket,  least  of  all  men,  could  have  pleaded  ignorance  of 
such  a  custom.  It  seemed  that  he  did  not  choose  to  ob- 
serve it.-^  While  courting  the  populace,  and  gaining  a 
reputation  as  a  saint  among  the  clergy,  the  archbishop  was 
asserting  his  secular  authority,  and  using  the  spiritual 
sword  to  enforce  it.  Again,  what  did  it  mean,  this  inter- 
ference with  the  rights  of  the  laity,  this  ambition  for  a 
personal  following  of  armed  knights  ?  Becket  was  not  a 
dreamer  who  had  emerged  into  high  place  from  the  cloister 
or  the  library.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  practical  problems  of  the  day,  the  most 
unlikely  of  all  persons  to  have  adopted  a  course  so  marked 
without  some  ulterior  purpose.  Henry  discovered  too  late 
that  his  mother's  eyes  had  been  keener  than  his  own.  He 
returned  to  England  in  the  beginning  of  1163.  Becket 
met  him  at  his  landing,  but  was  coldly  received. 

In  the  summer  of  the  same  year.  Pope  Alexander  held  a 
council  at  Tours.  The  English  prelates  attended.  The 
question  of  precedence"  was  not  this  time  raised.  The  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  and  his  suffragans  sat  on  the  pope's 
right  hand,  the  Archbishop  of  York  and  his  suffragans  sat 
on  the  pope's  left.  Whether  anything  of  consequence 
passed  on  this  occasion  between  the  pope  and  Becket  is  not 
known :  probably  not ;  it  is  certain,  however,  that  they 
met.  On  the  archbishop's  return  to  England  the  disputes 
between  the  secular  and  spiritual  authorities  broke  into 
open  conflict. 

The  Church  principles  of  Gregory  the  Seventh  were 

1  *'  Quod,  quia  rege  minime  certiorate  archiepiscopus  fecisset,  maxi- 
mam  ejus  indignationem  incurrit.  Asserit  enim  rex  juxta  dignitatem 
regni  sui,  quod  nullus  qui  de  rege  teneat  in  capite  vel  minister  ejus  citra 
ipsius  conscientiam  sit  excommunicandus  ab  aliquo,  ne  si  hoc  regem  lateat 
lapsus  ignorantia  communicet  excommunicato  ;  comitem  vel  baronem  ad 
Be  venientem  in  osculo  vel  consilio  admittat."  — Matthew  Paris,  Chronica 
Majora,  vol.  ii.  p.  222. 


28 


Life  and  Times  of 


making  their  way  through  Europe,  but  were  making  their 
way  with  extreme  slowness.  Though  the  celibacy  of  the 
clergy  had  been  decreed  by  law,  clerical  concubinage  was 
still  the  rule  in  England.  A  focaria  and  a  family  were 
still  to  be  found  in  most  country  parsonages.  In  theory  the 
priesthood  was  a  caste.  In  practice  priests  and  their  flocks 
were  united  by  common  interests,  common  pursuits,  com- 
mon virtues,  and  common  crimes.  The  common  law  of 
England  during  the  reigns  of  the  Conqueror's  sons  had  re- 
fused to  distinguish  between  them.  Clerks  guilty  of  robbery 
or  murder  had  been  tried  like  other  felons  in  the  ordinary 
courts,  and  if  found  guilty  had  suffered  the  same  punish- 
ments. The  new  pretension  was  that  they  were  a  peculiar 
order,  set  apart  for  God's  service,  not  amenable  to  secular 
jurisdiction,  and  liable  to  trial  only  in  the  spiritual  courts. 
Under  the  loose  administration  of  Stephen  the  judges  had 
begun  to  recognize  their  immunity,  and  the  conduct  of  the 
lower  class  of  clergy  was  in  consequence  growing  daily 
more  intolerable.  Clergy,  indeed,  a  great  many  of  them 
had  no  title  to  be  called.  They  had  received  only  some 
minor  form  of  orders,  of  which  no  sign  was  visible  in  their 
appearance  or  conduct.  They  were  clerks  only  so  far  as 
they  held  benefices  and  claimed  special  privileges ;  for  the 
rest,  they  hunted,  fought,  drank,  and  gambled  like  other 
idle  gentlemen. 

In  the  autumn  of  1163  a  specially  gross  case  of  clerical 
offence  brought  the  question  to  a  crisis. 

Philip  de  Broi,  a  young  nobleman  who  held  a  canonry 
at  Bedford,  had  killed  some  one  in  a  quarrel.  He  was 
brought  before  the  court  of  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  where 
he  made  his  purgation  ecclesiastico  jure  —  that  is  to  say,  he 
paid  the  usual  fees  and  perhaps  a  small  fine.  The  relations 
of  the  dead  man  declared  themselves  satisfied,  and  Philip 
de  Broi  was  acquitted.  The  Church  and  the  relations 
might  be  satisfied  ;  public  justice  was  not  satisfied.  The 
sheriff  of  Bedfordshire  declined  to  recognize  the  decision, 


Thomas  Bechet, 


29 


and  summoned  the  canon  a  second  time.  The  canon  in- 
sulted the  sheriff  in  open  court,  and  refused  to  plead  before 
him.  The  sheriff  referred  the  matter  to  the  king.  The 
king  sent  for  Philip  de  Broi,  and  cross-questioned  him  in 
Becket's  presence.  It  was  not  denied  that  he  had  killed  a 
man.  The  king  inquired  what  Becket  was  prepared  to  do. 
Becket's  answer,  for  the  present  and  all  similar  cases,  was 
that  a  clerk  in  orders  accused  of  felony  must  be  tried  in  the 
first  instance  in  an  ecclesiastical  court,  and  punished  accord- 
ing to  ecclesiastical  law.  If  the  crime  was  found  to  be  of 
peculiarly  dark  kind,  the  accused  might  be  deprived  of  his 
orders,  and,  if  he  again  offended,  should  lose  his  privilege. 
But  for  the  offence  for  which  he  was  deprived  he  was  not 
to  be  again  tried  or  again  punished ;  the  deprivation  itself 
was  to  suffice. 

The  king,  always  moderate,  was  unwilling  to  press  the 
question  to  extremity.  He  condemned  the  judgment  of  the 
Bishop  of  Lincoln's  court.  He  insisted  that  the  murderer 
should  have  a  real  trial.  But  he  appointed  a  mixed  com- 
mission of  bishops  and  laymen  to  try  him,  the  bishops  hav- 
ing the  preponderating  voice. 

Philip  de  Broi  pleaded  that  he  had  made  his  purgation 
in  the  regular  manner,  that  he  had  made  his  peace  with  the 
family  of  the  man  that  he  had  killed,  and  that  the  matter 
was  thus  ended.  He  apologized  for  having  insulted  the 
sheriff,  and  professed  himself  willing  to  make  reasonable 
reparation.  The  sentence  of  the  commission  was  that  his 
benefices  should  be  sequestered  for  two  years,  and  that,  if 
the  sheriff  insisted  upon  it,  he  should  be  flogged. 

So  weak  a  judgment  showed  Henry  the  real  value  of 
Becket's  theory.  The  criminal  clerk  was  to  be  amenable 
to  the  law  as  soon  as  he  has  been  degraded,  not  before ;  and 
it  was  perfectly  plain,  that  clerks  never  would  be  degraded. 
They  might  commit  murder  upon  murder,  robbery  upon 
robbery,  and  the  law  would  be  unable  to  touch  them.  It 
could  not  be.    The  king  insisted  that  a  sacred  profession 


30 


Life  and  Times  of 


should  not  be  used  as  a  screen  for  the  protection  of  felony. 
He  summoned  the  whole  body  of  the  bishops  to  meet  him 
in  a  council  at  Westminster  in  October. 

The  council  met.  The  archbishop  was  resolute.  He 
replied  for  the  other  bishops  in  an  absolute  refusal  to  make 
any  concession.  The  judges  and  the  laity  generally  were 
growing  excited.  Had  the  clergy  been  saints,  the  claims 
advanced  for  them  would  have  been  scarcely  tolerable. 
Being  what  they  were,  such  pretensions  were  ridiculous. 
Becket  might  speak  in  their  name.  He  did  not  speak  their 
real  opinions.  Arnulf,  Bishop  of  Lisieux,  came  over  to  use 
his  influence  with  Becket,  but  he  found  him  inexorable.  To 
risk  the  peace  of  the  Church  in  so  indefensible  a  quarrel 
seemed  obstinate  folly.  The  Bishop  of  Lisieux  and  several 
of  the  English  prelates  wrote  privately  to  the  pope  to  en- 
treat him  to  interfere. 

Alexander  had  no  liking  for  Becket.  He  had  known 
him  long,  and  had  no  belief  in  the  lately  assumed  airs  of 
sanctity.  Threatened  as  he  was  by  the  emperor  and  the 
antipope,  he  had  no  disposition  to  quarrel  with  Henry,  nor 
in  the  particular  question  at  issue  does  he  seem  to  have 
thought  the  archbishop  in  the  right.  On  the  spot  he  dis- 
patched a  legate,  a  monk  named  Philip  of  Auraone,  to  tell 
Becket  that  he  must  obey  the  laws  of  the  realm,  and  submit 
to  the  king's  pleasure. 

The  king  was  at  Woodstock.  The  archbishop,  tlius  com- 
manded, could  not  refuse  to  obey.  He  repaired  to  the 
court.  He  gave  his  promise.  He  undertook,  hond  fde  et 
sine  malo  ingenio^  to  submit  to  the  laws  of  the  land,  what- 
ever they  might  be  found  to  be.  But  a  vague  engagement 
of  this  kind  was  unsatisfactory,  and  might  afterwards  be 
evaded.  The  question  of  the  immunities  of  the  clergy  had 
been  publicly  raised.  The  attention  of  the  nation  had  been 
called  to  it.  Once  for  all  the  position  in  which  the  clergy 
were  to  stand  to  the  law  of  the  land  must  be  clearly  and 
finally  laid  down.    The  judges  had  been  directed  to  inquire 


Thomas  Bechet. 


31 


into  the  customs  which  had  been  of  use  in  England  under 
the  king's  grandfather,  Henry  the  First.  A  second  council 
was  called  to  meet  at  Clarendon,  near  Winchester,  in  the 
following  January,  when  these  customs,  reduced  to  writing, 
would  be  placed  in  the  archbishops'  and  bishops'  hands,  and 
they  would  be  required  to  consent  to  them  in  detail. 

The  spiritual  power  had  encroached  on  many  sides. 
Every  question,  either  of  person,  conduct,  or  property,  in 
which  an  ecclesiastic  was  a  party,  the  Church  courts  had 
endeavored  to  reserve  for  themselves.  Being  judges  in 
their  own  causes,  the  decisions  of  the  clergy  were  more  sat- 
isfactory to  themselves  than  to  the  laity.  The  practice  of 
appealing  to  Rome  in  every  cause  in  which  a  churchman 
was  in  any  way  connected  had  disorganized  the  whole  course 
of  justice.  The  Constitutions  (as  they  were  called)  of  Clar- 
endon touched  in  detail  on  a  variety  of  points  on  which  the 
laity  considered  themselves  injured.  The  general  provi- 
sions embodied  in  these  famous  resolutions  would  now  be 
scarcely  challenged  in  the  most  Catholic  country  in  the 
world. 

1.  During  the  vacancy  of  any  archbishopric,  bishopric, 
abbey,  or  priory  of  royal  foundation,  the  estates  were  to  be 
in  the  custody  of  the  Crown.  Elections  to  these  prefer- 
ments were  to  be  held  in  the  royal  chapel,  with  the  assent 
of  the  king  and  council. 

2.  In  every  suit  to  which  a  clerk  was  a  part}^,  proceed- 
ings were  to  commence  before  the  king's  justices,  and  these 
justices  were  to  decide  whether  the  case  was  to  be  tried  be- 
fore a  spiritual  or  a  civil  court.  If  it  was  referred  to  a  spir- 
itual court,  a  civil  officer  was  to  attend  to  watch  the  trial, 
and  if  a  clerk  was  found  guilty  of  felony  the  Church  was  to 
cease  to  protect  him. 

3.  No  tenant-in-chief  of  the  king,  or  officer  of  his  house- 
hold, was  to  be  excommunicated,  or  his  lands  laid  under  an 
interdict,  until  application  had  been  first  made  to  the  king, 
or,  in  his  absence,  to  the  chief  justice. 


32  ^      Life  and  Times  of 

4.  Laymen  were  not  to  be  indicted  in  a  bishop's  court, 
either  for  perjury  or  other  similar  offence,  except  in  the 
bishop's  presence  by  a  lawful  prosecutor  and  with  lawful 
witnesses.  If  the  accused  was  of  so  high  rank  that  no 
prosecutor  would  appear,  the  bishop  might  require  the 
sheriff  to  call  a.  jury  to  inquire  into  the  case. 

5.  Archbishops,  bishops,  and  other  great  persons  were 
forbidden  to  leave  the  realm  without  the  king's  permission. 

6.  Appeals  were  to  be  from  the  archdeacon  to  the  bishop, 
from  the  bishop  to  tlie  archbishop,  from  the  archbishop  to 
the  king,  and  no  further;  that,  by  the  king's  mandate,  the 
case  might  be  ended' in  the  archbishop's  court. 

The  last  article  the  king  afterwards  explained  away.  It 
was  one  of  the  most  essential,  but  he  was  unable  to  main- 
tain it ;  and  he  was  rash,  or  he  was  ill-advised,  in  raising  a 
second  question,  on  which  the  pope  would  naturally  be  sen- 
sitive, before  he  had  disposed  of  the  first.  On  the  original 
subject  of  dispute,  whether  benefit  of  clergy  was  to  mean 
impunity  to  crime,  the  pope  had  already  practically  decided, 
and  he  could  have  been  brought  without  difficulty  to  give  a 
satisfiictory  judgment  upon  it.  Some  limit  also  might  have 
been  assigned  to  the  powers  of  excommunication  which 
could  be  so  easily  abused,  and  which,  if  abused,  might  lose 
their  terrors.  But  appeals  to  the  pope  were  the  most  lucra- 
tive source  of  the  pope's  revenue.  To  restrict  appeals  was 
to  touch  at  once  his  pride  and  his  exchequer. 

The  Constitutions  were  drafted,  and  when  the  council 
assembled  were  submitted  to  Becket  for  approval.  He 
saw  in  the  article  on  the  appeals  a  prospect  of  recovering 
Alexander's  support,  and  he  again  became  obstinate.  None 
of  the  bishops,  however,  would  stand  by  him.  There  was  a 
general  entreaty  that  he  would  not  reojDen  the  quarrel,  and 
he  yielded  so  far  as  to  give  a  general  promise  of  conform- 


1  The  Constitutions  were  seventeen  in  all.  The  articles  in  the  text  are 
an  epitome  of  those  which  the  Church  found  most  objectionable. 


Thomas  Becket. 


33 


itj.^  It  was  a  promise  given  dishonestly  —  given  with  a  con- 
scious intention  of  not  observing  it.  '  He  had  been  tempted, 
he  afterwards  said,  by  an  intimation  that,  if  he  would  but 
seem  to  yield,  the  king  would  be  satisfied,  Becket  was  a 
lawyer.  He  could  not  really  have  been  under  any  such 
illusion.  In  real  truth  he  did  not  mean  to  be  bound  by  the 
language  of  the  Constitutions  at  all,  but  only  by  his  own 
language,  from  which  it  would  be  easy  to  escape.  The 
king  by  this  time  knew  the  man  with  whom  he  had  to  deal. 
The  Constitutions  were  placed  in  writing  before  the  bishops, 
who  one  and  all  were  required  to  signify  their  adherence 
under  their  several  hands  and  seals. 

Becket,  we  are  innocently  told  by  his  biographer  Grim, 
now  saw  that  Jie  was  to  be  entrapped.  There  was  no  en- 
trapping if  his  promise  had  been  honestly  given.  The  use 
of  tlie  word  is  a  frank  confession  that  he  had  meant  to 
deceive  Henry  by  words,  and  that  he  was  being  caught  in 
his  own  snare.  When  driven  to  bay,  the  archbishop's  fiery 
nature  always  broke  into  violence.  "  Never,  never,"  he 
said;  "  I  will  never  do  it  so  long  as  breath  is  in  my  body."  ^ 
In  affected  penitence  for  his  guilty  compliance,  he  retired  to 
his  see  to  afflict  his  flesh  with  public  austerities.  He  sus- 
pended himself  ah  altaris  officio  (from  the  service  of  the 
altar)  till  the  pope  should  absolve  him  from  his  sin.  The 
Bishop  of  Evreux,  who  was  present  at  Clarendon,  advised 
him  to  w]-ite  to  the  pope  for  authority  to  sign.  He  pre- 
tended to  comply,  but  he  commissioned  a  private  friend  of 

1  Foliot,  however,  says  that  many  of  the  bishops  were  willing  to  stand 
out,  and  that  Becket  himself  advised  a  false  submission  (Foliot  to  Cecket, 
Giles,  vol.  i.  p.  381.) 

2  Sanctus  archiepiscopus  tunc  primum  dolum  quern  fuerat  suspicatus  ad- 
vertens,  interposita  fide  quam  Deo  debuit :  "  Xoa  hoc  fiet,"  respondit, 
"  quam  diu  in  hoc  vasculo  spirat  hjec  anima."  Nam  domestici  regis  secu- 
rum  fecerant  archiepiscopum  quod  nunquam  scriberentur  leges,  nunquani 
illarum  fieret  recordatio,  si  regem  verbo  tantum  in  audientia  procerum 
honorasset.  Ficta  se  conjuratione  seductum  videns,  ad  animam  usque 
tristabatur." — Materials  for  the  History  of  Thomas  Becket,  vol.  ii.  p. 
382. 

3 


34 


Life  and  Times  of 


his  own,  John  of  Salisbury,  who  was  on  the  continent,  to 
prepare  for  his  reception  on  the  flight  which  he  already 
meditated  from  England,  and  by  all  methods,  fair  and  foul, 
to  prevent  the  pope  and  cardinals  from  giving  the  king  any 
further  encouragement.  The  Bishop  of  Lisieux,  on  the 
other  hand,  whose  previous  intercession  had  decided  the 
pope  in  the  king's  favor,  went  to  Sens  in  person  to  persuade 
Alexander  to  cut  the  knot  by  sending  legatine  powers  to 
the  Archbishop  of  York,  to  override  Becket's  obstinacy 
and  to  consent  in  the  name  of  the  Church  instead  of  him. 

John  of  Salisbury's  account  of  his  proceedings  gives  a 
curious  picture  of  the  cause  of  God,  as  Becket  called  it,  on 
its  earthly  and  grosser  side. 

The  Count  of  Flanders  (he  wrote  to  the  archbishop)  is  most 
anxious  to  help  you.  If  extremity  comes,  send  the  count  word, 
and  he  will  provide  ships. ^  Everything  which  passed  in  Lon- 
don and  at  Winchester  (Clarendon)  is  better  known  here  than 
in  England  itself.  I  have  seen  the  King  of  France,  who  un- 
dertakes to  write  to  the  pope  in  your  behalf.  The  feeling  to- 
wards our  king  among  the  French  people  is  of  fear  and  hatred. 
The  pope  himself  I  have  avoided  so  far.  I  have  written  to  the 
two  cardinals  of  Pisa  and  Pavia  to  explain  the  injury  which 
will  ensue  to  the  Court  of  Rome  if  the  Constitutions  are  up- 
held. I  am  not  sanguine,  however.  "  Many  things  make 
against  us,  few  in  our  favor.  Great  men  will  come  over  here 
with  money  to  spend,  quam  nunguam  Roma  contejiipsit  (which 
Rome  never  despised).  The  pope  himself  has  always  been 
against  us  in  this  cause,  and  throws  in  our  teeth  that  after  all 
which  Pope  Adrian  did  for  the  see  of  Canterbury  you  are  al- 
lowing his  mother  to  starve  in  cold  and  hunger."  ^  You  write 
that  if  I  cannot  succeed  otherwise  I  may  promise  two  hundred 
marks.  The  other  side  will  give  down  three  or  four  hundred 
sooner  than  be  defeated,^  and  I  will  answer  for  the  Romans  that 

1  "Naves  enim  procurabit  si  hoc  necessitas  vestra  exegerit,  et  ipse  ante, 
ut  oportet,  praeraoneatur."  —  Joannis  Sarisbinensis  EpistoIcB,  vol.  i.  p.  188. 

2  *'  Cuju3  mater  apud  vos  algore  torquetur  et  inedia." 

8  *'  Sed  scribitis,  si  alia  via  non  patuerit,  promittamus  ducentas  marcas. 
At  certe  pars  adversa  antequam  frustretur  trecentas  dabit  aut  quadringen- 
tas." 


Thomas  Bechet, 


35 


they  will  prefer  tlie  larger  sum  in  hand  from  the  king  to  the 
smaller  in  promise  from  you.  It  is  true  we  are  contending  for 
the  liberties  of  the  Church,  but  your  motive,  it  will  be  said,  is 
not  the  Church's  welfare,  but  your  own  ambition.  They  will 
propose  (I  have  already  heard  a  whisper  of  it)  that  the  pope 
shall  cross  to  England  in  person  to  crown  the  young  king  and 
take  your  place  at  Canterbury  for  a  while.  If  the  Bishop  of 
Lisienx  sees  the  pope,  he  will  do  mischief.  I  know  the  nature 
of  him.i 

Though  the  archbishop  was  convulsing  the  realm  for  the 
sacred  right  of  appeals  to  Rome,  it  is  plain  from  this  letter 
that  he  was  aware  of  the  motives  by  which  the  papal  deci- 
sions were  governed,  and  that  he  was  perfectly  ready  to 
address  himself  to  them.  Unfortunately  his  resources 
were  limited,  and  John  of  Salisbury's  misgivings  were  con- 
firmed. The  extraordinary  legatine  powers  were  conceded 
not  to  the  Archbishop  of  York  —  it  was  held  inexpedient  to 
set  York  above  Canterbury  —  but  to  the  king  himself.  To 
Becket  the  pope  wrote  with  some  irony  on  hearing  that  he 
had  suspended  himself.  He  trusted  the  archbishop  was  not 
creating  needless  scandal.  The  promise  to  the  king  had 
been  given  with  good  intentions,  and  could  not  therefore 
be  a  serious  sin.  If  there  was  anything  further  on  his  con- 
science (did  the  pope  suspect  that  the  promise  had  been  dis- 
honest?), he  might  confess  it  to  any  discreet  priest.  He 
(the  pope)  meanwhile  absolved  him,  and  advised,  and  even 
enjoined,  him  to  return  to  his  duties. 

The  first  campaign  was  thus  over,  and  the  king  was  so 
far  victorious.  The  legatine  powers  having  arrived,  the 
Constitutions  were  immediately  acted  upon.  The  number 
of  criminals  among  the  clergy  happened  to  be  unusually 
large.^  Tbey  were  degraded,  sent  to  trial,  and  suffered  in 
the  usual  way  by  death  or  mutilation.    "Then,"  say  Beck- 

1  John  of  Salisbury  to  Becket  (abridged).    Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  187. 

2  "  Sed  et  ordinatorum  inordinati  mores  inter  regem  et  archiepiscopum 
auxere  malitiam,  qui  solito  abundantius  per  idem  tempus  apparebant,  pub- 
licis  irretiti  criniinibus."  — Materials,  etc.,  vol.  ii.  p.  385. 


86 


Life  and  Times  of 


et's  despairing  biographers,  "  was  seen  the  mournful  spec- 
tacle of  priests  and  deacons  who  had  committed  murder, 
manslaughter,  theft,  robbery,  and  other  crimes,  carried  in 
carts  before  the  king's  commissioners,  and  punished  as  if 
they  hud  been  ordinary  men."  The  archbishop  clamored, 
threatened,  and,  as  far  as  his  power  went,  interfered.  The 
king  was  firm.  He  had  sworn  at  his  coronation,  he  said,  to 
do  justice  in  the  realm,  and  there  were  no  greater  villains 
in  it  than  many  of  the  clergy.^  That  bishops  should  take 
public  offenders  out  of  custody,  absolve  them,  and  let  them 
go,  was  not  to  be  borne.  It  was  against  law,  against  usage, 
against  reason.  It  could  not  be.  The  laity  were  gener- 
ally of  the  king's  opinion.  Of  the  bishops  some  four  or  five 
agreed  privately  with  Becket,  but  dared  not  avow  their 
opinions.  The  archbishop  perceived  that  the  game  was 
lost  unless  he  could  himself  see  the  pope  and  speak  to  him. 
He  attempted  to  steal  over  from  Sandwich,  but  the  boatmen 
recognized  him  midway  across  the  channel  and  brought  him 
back. 

1  "  In  omni  scelere  et  flagitio  nequiores." 


Thomas  Becket, 


37 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  pope  had  sent  legatine  powers  to  the  king,  and  the 
king  had  acted  upon  them ;  but  something  was  still  wanting 
for  general  satisfaction.  He  had  been  required  to  confirm 
the  Constitutions  by  a  bull.  He  had  hesitated  to  do  it,  and 
put  off  his  answer.  At  length  he  sent  the  Archbishop  of 
Rouen  to  England  to  endeavor  to  compromise  matters. 
The  formal  consent  of  the  Church  was  still  wanting,  and  in 
the  absence  of  it  persons  who  agreed  with  the  king  in  prin- 
ciple were  uneasy  at  the  possible  consequences.  The  clergy 
might  be  wicked,  but  they  were  magicians  notwithstanding, 
and  only  the  chief  magician  could  make  it  safe  to  deal  with 
them.  In  the  autumn  of  1164  the  king  once  more  sum- 
moned a  great  council  to  meet  him  at  Northampton  Castle. 
The  attendance  was  vast.  Every  peer  and  prelate  not  dis- 
abled was  present,  all  feeling  the  greatness  of  the  occasion. 
Castle,  town,  and  monasteries  were  thronged  to  overflowing. 
Becket  only  had  hesitated  to  appear.  His  attempt  to  es- 
cape to  the  continent  was  constructive  treason.  It  was 
more  than  treason.  It  was  a  violation  of  a  distinct  promise 
which  he  had  given  to  the  king.^  The  storm  which  he  had 
raised  had  unloosed  the  tongues  of  those  who  had  to  com- 
plain of  his  ill-usage  of  them  either  in  his  archbishop's 
court  or  in  the  days  when  he  was  chancellor.  The  accounts 
had  been  looked  into,  and  vast  sums  were  found  to  have 
been  received  by  him  of  which  no  explanation  had  been 
given.  Who  was  this  man,  that  he  should  throw  the  coun- 
try into  confusion,  in  the  teeth  of  the  bishops,  in  the  teeth 
(as  it  seemed)  of  the  pope,  in  the  teeth  of  his  own  oath 
1  Foliot  to  Becket,  Giles,  vol.  ii.  p.  387. 


38 


Life  and  Times  of 


given  solemnly  to  the  king  at  Woodstock  ?  The  Bishop  of 
London,  in  a  letter  to  Becket,  charged  him  with  having 
directly  intended  to  commit  perjur3\-^  The  first  object  of 
the  Northampton  council  was  to  inquire  into  his  conduct, 
and  he  had  good  reason  to  be  alarmed  at  the  probable  con- 
sequences. He  dared  not,  however,  disobey  a  peremptory 
summons.  He  came,  attended  by  a  large  force  of  armed 
knights,  and  was  entertained  at  the  monastery  of  St.  An- 
drews. To  anticipate  inquiry  into  his  attempted  flight,  he 
applied  for  permission  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  to  go  to 
France  to  visit  the  pope.  The  king  told  him  that  he  could 
not  leave  the  realm  until  he  had  answered  for  a  decree  which 
had  been  given  in  his  court.  The  case  was  referred  to  the 
assembled  peers,  and  he  was  condemned  and  fined.  It  was 
a  bad  augury  for  him.  Other  charges  lay  thick,  ready  to 
be  produced.  He  was  informed  officially  that  he  would  be 
required  to  explain  the  Chancery  accounts,  and  answer  for 
the  money  which  he  had  applied  to  his  own  purposes.  His 
proud  temper  was  chafed  to  the  quick,  and  he  turned  sick 
with  anger.^  His  admirers  see  only  in  these  demands  the 
sinister  action  of  a  dishonest  tyranny.  Oblique  accusations, 
it  is  said,  were  raised  against  him,  either  to  make  him  bend 
or  to  destroy  his  character.  The  question  is  rather  whether 
his  conduct  admitted  of  explanation.  If  he  had  been  un- 
just as  a  judge,  if  he  had  been  unscrupulous  as  a  high  offi- 
cer of  state,  such  faults  had  no  unimportant  bearing  on  his 
present  attitude.  He  would  have  done  wisely  to  clear  him- 
self if  he  could  ;  it  is  probable  that  he  could  not.  He  re- 
fused to  answer,  and  he  sheltered  himself  behind  the  release 
which  he  had  received  at  his  election.  His  refusal  was  not 
allowed ;  a  second  summons  the  next  day  found  him  in  his 

1  Foliot  says  that  at  Clarendon  Becket  said  to  the  bishops,  "  It  is  the 
Lord's  will  I  should  perjure  myself.  For  the  present  I  submit  and  incur 
perjury,  to  repent  of  it,  however,  as  I  best  may."  —  Giles,  vol.  i.  p.  381. 
Foliot  was  reminding  Becket  of  what  passed  on  that  occasion. 

2  "Propter  iram  et  indignationem  quam  in  animo  conceperat  decidit  in 
gravem  segritudinem."  —  Hoveden,  vol.  i.  p.  225. 


Thomas  Bechet, 


39 


bed,  which  he  said  that  he  was  too  ill  to  leave.  This  was 
on  a  Saturday.  A  respite  was  allowed  him  until  the  fol- 
lowing Monday.  On  Monday  the  answer  was  the  same. 
Messenger  after  messenger  brought  back  word  that  the 
archbishop  was  unable  to  move.  The  excuse  might  be  true 
■ — perhaps  partially  it  was  true.  The  king  sent  two  great 
peers  to  ascertain,  and  in  his  choice  of  persons  he  gave  a 
conclusive  answer  to  the  accusation  of  desiring  to  deal  un- 
fairly with  Becket;  one  was  Reginald,  Earl  of  Cornwall, 
the  king's  uncle,  who  as  long  as  Becket  lived  was  the  best 
friend  that  he  had  at  the  court ;  the  other  was  the  remark- 
able Robert,  Earl  of  Leicester,  named  Bossu  (the  Hunch- 
back). This  Robert  was  a  monk  of  Leicester  Abbey, 
though  he  had  a  dispensation  to  remain  at  the  court,  and  so 
bitter  a  papist  was  he  that  when  the  schismatic  Archbishop 
of  Cologne  came  afterwards  to  London  he  publicly  insulted 
him  and  tore  down  the  altar  at  which  he  had  said  mass. 
Such  envoys  would  not  have  been  selected  with  a  sinister 
purpose.  They  found  that  the  archbishop  could  attend  if 
he  wished,  and  they  warned  him  of  the  danger  of  trying  the 
king  too  far.  He  pleaded  for  one  more  day.  On  the  Tues- 
day morning  he  undertook  to  be  present. 

His  knights,  whose  first  allegiance  was  to  the  Crown,  had 
withdrawn  from  the  monastery,  not  daring  or  not  choosing 
to  stand  by  a  prelate  who  appeared  to  be  defying  his  sover- 
eign. Their  place  had  been  taken  by  a  swarm  of  mendi- 
cants, such  as  the  archbishop  had  gathered  about  him  at 
Canterbury.  He  prepared  for  the  scene  in  which  he  was 
to  play  a  part  with  the  art  of  which  he  was  so  accomplished 
a  master.  He  professed  to  expect  to  be  killed.  He  rose 
early.  Some  of  the  bishops  came  to  see  and  remonstrate 
with  him  :  they  could  not  move  his  resolution,  and  they  re- 
tired. Left  to  himself,  he  said  the  mass  of  St.  Stephen  in 
which  were  the  words :  "  The  kings  of  the  earth  stood  up, 
and  the  rulers  took  counsel  together  against  the  Lord  and 
against  his  anointed."    He  then  put  on  a  black  stole  and 


40 


Life  and  Times  of 


cap,  mounted  his  palfrey,  and,  followed  by  a  few  monks  and 
surrounded  by  his  guard  of  beggars,  rode  a  foot's  pace  to 
the  castle  preceded  by  his  cross-bearer. 

The  royal  castle  of  Northampton  was  a  feudal  palace  of 
the  usual  form.  A  massive  gateway  led  into  a  quadrangle  ; 
across  the  quadrangle  was  the  entrance  of  the  great  hall, 
and  at  the  upper  end  of  the  hall  doors  opened  into  spacious 
chambers  beyond.  The  archbishop  alighted  at  the  gate, 
himself  took  his  cross  in  his  right  hand,  and,  followed  by  a 
small  train,  passed  through  the  quadrangle,  and  passed  up  the 
hall,  "  looking  like  the  lion-man  of  the  prophet's  vision."  ^ 
The  king  and  the  barons  were  in  one  chamber,  the  bishops 
in  another.  The  archbishop  was  going  in  this  attitude  into 
the  king's  presence,  that  the  court  might  see  the  person  on 
whom  they  dared  to  sit  in  judgment ;  but  certain  "  Temp- 
lars "  warned  him  to  beware.  He  entered  among  his  breth- 
ren, and  moved  through  them  to  a  chair  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  room. 

He  still  held  his  cross.  The  action  was  unusual  ;  the 
cross  was  the  spiritual  sword,  and  to  bear  it  thus  conspicu- 
ously in  a  deliberative  assembly  was  as  if  a  baron  had 
entered  the  council  in  arms.  The  mass  of  St.  Stephen  had 
been  heard  of,  and  in  the  peculiar  temper  of  men's  minds 
was  regarded  as  a  magical  incantation.^  The  Bishop  of 
Hereford  advanced  and  offered  to  carry  the  croso  for  him. 
Foliot,  Bishop  of  London  {flius  hujus  scecuU,  "  a  son  of 
this  world  ")  said  that  if  he  came  thus  armed  into  the  court 
the  king  would  draw  a  sharper  sword,  and  he  would  see 
then  what  his  arms  would  avail  him.  Seeing  him  still  ob- 
stinate, Foliot  tried  to  force  the  cross  out  of  his  hands. 
The  Archbishop  of  York  added  his  persuasions  ;  but  the 
Archbishop  of  York  peculiarly  irritated  Becket,  and  was 

1  "Assumens  faciem  hominis,  faciem  leonis,  propheticis  illis  animali- 
bus  a  propheta  descriptis  simillimus."  — Herbert  of  Bosham. 

-  It  was  said  to  have  been  done  per  artem  mngicam  et  in  contemptu 
ver/is.    (Hoveden.)    He  had  the  eucharist  concealed  under  his  dress. 


Thomas  Beeket. 


41 


silenced  by  a  violent  answer.  "  Fool  thou  hast  ever  been," 
said  the  Bishop  of  London,  "  and  from  thy  folly  I  see  plainly 
thou  wilt  not  depai't."  Cries  burst  out  on  all  sides. 
"  Fly  !  "  some  one  whispered  in  the  archbishop's  ear ;  "  fiy^ 
or  you  are  a  dead  man."  The  Bishop  of  Exeter  came  in 
at  the  moment,  and  exclaimed  that  unless  the  archbishop 
gave  way  they  would  all  be  murdered.  Becket  never 
showed  to  more  advantage  than  in  moments  of  personal 
danger.  To  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  he  gave  a  sharp  answer, 
telling  him  that  he  savored  not  the  things  of  God.  But  he 
collected  himself.  He  saw  that  he  was  alone.  He  stood 
up,  he  appealed  to  the  pope,  charged  the  bishops  on  peril  of 
their  souls  to  excommunicate  any  one  who  dared  to  lay 
hands  on  him,  and  moved  as  if  he  intended  to  withdraw. 
The  Bishop  of  Winchester  bade  him  resign  the  archbishop- 
ric. With  an  elaborate  oath  (cum  interminahili  juratione) 
he  swore  that  he  would  not  resign.  The  Bishop  of  Chi- 
chester then  said :  "  As  our  primate  we  are  bound  to  obey 
you,  but  you  are  our  primate  no  longer ;  you  have  broken 
your  oath.  You  swore  allegiance  to  the  king,  and  you 
subvert  the  common  law  of  the  realm.  We  too  appeal  to 
the  pope.  To  his  presence  we  summon  you."  "  1  hear 
what  you  say,"  was  all  the  answer  which  Becket  deigned  to 
return. 

The  doors  from  the  adjoining  chamber  were  now  flung 
open.  The  old  Earl  of  Cornwall,  the  hunchback  Leicester, 
and  a  number  of  barons  entered.  "  My  lord,"  said  the  Earl 
of  Leicester  to  the  archbishop,  "the  king  requires  you  to 
come  to  his  presence  and  answer  to  certain  things  which  will 
then  be  alleged  against  you,  as  you  promised  yesterday  to 
do."  "  My  lord  earl,"  said  Becket,  "  thou  knowest  how 
long  and  loyally  I  served  the  king  in  his  worldly  affairs. 
For  that  cause  it  pleased  him  to  promote  me  to  the  office 
which  now  I  hold.  I  did  not  desire  the  office  ;  I  knew  my 
infirmities.  When  I  consented  it  was  for  the  sake  of  the 
king  alone.    When  I  was  elected  I  was  formally  acquitted 


42 


Life  and  Times  of 


of  my  responsibilities  for  all  that  I  had  done  as  chancellor. 
Therefore  I  am  not  bound  to  answer,  and  I  will  not  an- 
swer." 

The  earls  carried  back  the  reply.  The  peers  by  a  swift 
vote  declared  that  the  archbishop  must  be  arrested  and 
placed  under  guard. 

The  earls  reentered,  and  Leicester  approached  him  and 
began  slowly  and  reluctantly  to  announce  the  sentence. 
"  Nay,"  said  Becket,  lifting  his  tall  meagre  figure  to  its  haugh- 
tiest height,  "do  thou  first  listen  to  me.  The  child  may  not 
judge  his  father.  The  king  may  not  judge  me,  nor  may  you 
judge  me.  I  will  be  judged  under  God  by  the  pope  alone, 
to  whom  in  your  presence  I  appeal.  I  forbid  you  under 
anathema  to  pronounce  your  sentence.  And  you,  my  breth- 
ren," he  said,  turning  to  the  bishops,  "since  you  will  obey 
man  rather  than  God,  I  call  you  too  before  the  same  judg- 
ment-seat. Under  the  protection  of  the  Apostolic  See,  I 
depart  hence." 

No  hand  was  raised  to  stop  him.  He  swept  through  the 
chamber  and  flung  open  the  door  of  the  hall.  He  stumbled 
on  the  threshold,  and  had  almost  fallen,  but  recovered  him- 
self. The  October  evening  was  growing  into  twilight.  The 
hall  was  thronged  with  the  retinues  of  the  king  and  the 
barons.  Dinner  was  over.  The  floor  was  littered  with 
rushes  and  fragments  of  rolls  and  broken  meat.  Draughts 
of  ale  had  not  been  wanting,  and  young  knights,  pages,  and 
retainers  were  either  lounging  on  the  benches  or  talking 
in  eager  and  excited  groups.  As  Becket  appeared  among 
them,  fierce  voices  were  heard  crying,  "  Traitor !  traitor  ! 
Stop  the  traitor  ! "  Among  the  loudest  were  Count  Hame- 
lin,  the  king's  illegimate  brother,  and  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc, 
one  of  the  Canterbury  knights.  Like  a  bold  animal  at  bay, 
Becket  turned  sharply  on  these  two.  He  called  Count  Ha- 
melin  a  bastard  boy.  He  reminded  De  Broc  of  some  near 
kinsman  of  his  who  had  been  hanged.  The  cries  rose  into 
a  roar ;  sticks  and  knots  of  straw  were  flung  at  him.  An- 


Thomas  BecJcet, 


43 


other  rash  word,  and  he  might  have  been  torn  in  pieces. 
Some  high  official  hearing  the  noise  came  in  and  conducted 
him  safely  to  the  door. 

In  the  quadrangle  he  found  his  servants  waiting  with  his 
palfrey.  The  great  gate  was  locked,  but  the  key  was  hang- 
ing on  the  wall ;  one  of  them  took  it  and  opened  the  gate, 
the  porters  looking  on,  but  not  interfering.  Once  outside 
he  was  received  with  a  cheer  of  delight  from  the  crowd,  and 
with  a  mob  of  people  about  him  he  made  his  way  back  to 
the  monastery.  The  king  had  not  intended  to  arrest  him, 
but  he  could  not  know  it,  and  he  was  undoubtedly  in  danger 
from  one  or  other  of  the  angry  men  with  whom  the  town 
was  crowded.  •  He  prepared  for  immediate  flight.  A  bed 
was  made  for  him  in  the  chapel  behind  the  altar.  After  a 
hasty  supper  with  a  party  of  beggars  whom  he  had  intro- 
duced into  the  house,  he  lay  down  for  a  few  hours  of  rest. 
At  two  in  the  morning,  in  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain,  he  stole 
away  disguised  with  two  of  the  brethren.  He  reached  Lin- 
coln soon  after  daybreak,  and  from  Lincoln,  going  by  cross 
paths,  and  slipping  from  hiding-place  to  hiding-place,  he 
made  his  way  in  a  fortnight  to  a  farm  of  his  own  at  Eastry, 
near  Sandwich.  He  was  not  pursued.  It  was  no  sooner 
known  that  he  was  gone  from  Northampton  than  a  procla- 
mation was  sent  through  the  country  forbidding  every  man 
under  pain  of  death  to  meddle  with  him.  The  king  had 
determined  to  allow  the  appeal,  and  once  more  to  place  the 
whole  question  in  the  pope's  hands.  The  Earl  of  Arundel 
with  a  dozen  peers  and  bishops  was  dispatched  at  once  to 
Sens  to  explain  what  had  happened,  and  to  request  Alex- 
ander to  send  legates  to  England  to  investigate  the  quarrel 
and  to  end  it.  The  archbishop,  could  he  have  consented  to 
be  quiet,  might  have  remained  unmolested  at  Canterbury 
till  the  result  could  be  ascertained.  But  he  knew  too  well 
the  forces  which  would  be  at  work  in  the  papal  court  to 
wait  for  its  verdict.  His  confidence  was  only  in  himself. 
Could  he  see  the  pope  in  person,  he  thought  that  he  could 


44 


Life  and  Times  of 


influence  him.  He  was  sure  of  the  friendship  of  Lewis  of 
France,  who  was  meditating  a  fresh  quarrel  with  Henry,  and 
would  welcome  his  support.  His  own  spiritual  weapons 
would  be  as  effective  across  the  Channel  as  if  used  in  Eng- 
land, while  he  would  himself  be  in  personal  security.  One 
dark  night  he  went  down  with  his  two  companions  into 
Sandwich,  and  in  an  open  boat  crossed  safely  to  Grave- 
lines.  At  St.  Omer  he  fell  in  with  his  old  friend  Chief 
Justice  de  Luci,  who  was  returning  from  a  mission  to  the 
court  of  France.  De  Luci  urged  him  to  return  to  P^ngland 
and  wait  for  the  pope's  decision,  warning  him  of  the  con- 
sequences of  persisting  in  a  course  which  was  really  treason- 
able, and  undertaking  that  the  king  would  forgive  him  if  he 
would  go  back  at  once.  Entreaties  and  waitings  were  alike 
thrown  away.  He  remained  and  dispatched  a  letter  to  the 
pope  saying  briefly  that  he  had  followed  the  example  of  his 
holiness  in  resisting  the  encroachments  of  princes,  and  had 
fled  from  his  country.  He  had  been  called  to  answer  before 
the  king  as  if  he  had  been  a  mere  layman.  The  bishops, 
who  ought  to  have  stood  by  him,  had  behaved  like  cow- 
ards. If  he  was  not  sustained  by  his  holiness,  the  Church 
would  be  ruined,  and  he  would  himself  be  doubly  con- 
founded. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


45 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  king  and  the  English  bishops  looked  with  reason- 
able confidence  to  the  result  of  their  appeal.  Becket  had 
broken  his  promise  to  accept  the  Constitutions,  and  had  so 
broken  it  as  to  show  that  the  promise  had  been  given  in 
conscious  bad  faith.  He  was  a  defaulting  public  officer. 
He  had  been  unjust  as  a  judge.  He  had  defied  the  Crown 
and  the  estates  of  the  realm.  He  had  refused  to  answer  for 
his  conduct,  and  had  denied  his  responsibilities.  He  had 
deserted  his  post,  and  had  fled  from  the  realm,  although  the 
king's  proclamation  had  left  him  without  the  excuse  that  he 
was  in  fear  of  personal  violence.  He  was  an  archbishop, 
and  possessed,  in  virtue  of  his  office,  of  mysterious  powers 
which  the  laity  had  not  learned  to  defy.  But  the  pope  was 
superior  to  him  in  his  own  sphere,  and  on  the  pope  the  king 
naturally  felt  that  he  had  a  right  to  rely.  The  Earl  of 
Arundel  with  the  other  peers,  the  Archbishop  of  York,  and 
the  Bishops  of  London,  Chichester,  and  Exeter,  were 
chosen  as  envoys,  and  were  dispatched  immediately  on  the 
dissolution  of  the  Northampton  meeting.  They  crossed 
the  Channel  on  the  same  night  that  Becket  crossed,  and 
after  a  hasty  and  unsatisfactory  interview  with  Lewis  at 
Compiegne  they  made  their  way  to  Sens.  Becket  ought  to 
have  met  them  there.  But  Becket  preferred  to  feel  his 
ground  and  make  friends  in  France  before  presenting  him- 
self. He  was  disappointed  in  the  Count  of  Flanders,  who 
declined  to  countenance  him.  He  escaped  in  disguise  over 
the  French  frontier,  and  addressed  himself  to  Lewis  at  Sois- 
sons.  Lewis,  who  meant  no  good  to  Henry,  received  him 
warmly,  and  wrote  in  his  favor  to  the  pope.    At  the  French 


46 


Life  and  Times  of 


court  lie  remained  till  he  saw  how  matters  would  go  at 
SeDS,  sending  forward  his  confidential  friend,  Herbert  of 
Bosham,  to  watch  the  proceedings,  and  speak  for  him  to  the 
pope  and  cardinals. 

He  might  have  easily  been  present  himself,  since  Herbert 
reached  Sens  only  a  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  English 
ambassadors.  The  bishops  stated  their  case.  They  laid  the 
blame  of  the  quarrel  on  the  archbishop's  violence.  They 
explained  the  moderation  of  the  king's  demands.  They 
requested  the  pope's  interposition.  The  Earl  of  Arundel 
followed  in  the  name  of  the  English  barons.  He  dwelt  on 
the  fidelity  with  which  the  king  had  adhered  to  the  Holy 
See  in  its  troubles,  and  the  regret  with  which,  if  justice  was 
denied  them,  the  English  nation  might  be  compelled  to 
look  elsewhere.  He  requested,  and  the  bishops  requested, 
that  Becket  should  be  ordered  to  return  to  Canterbury,  and 
that  a  legate  or  legates  should  be  sent  with  plenary  powers 
to  hear  the  cause  and  decide  upon  it. 

Seeing  that  the  question  immediately  before  the  pope  did 
not  turn  on  the  Constitutions,  but  on  the  liability  of  the 
archbisliop  to  answer  for  his  civil  administration,  the  king 
was  making  a  large  concession.  Many  cardinals  had  their 
own  good  reasons  for  being  on  the  the  king's  side,  and,  if  left 
to  himself,  the  pope  would  have  been  glad  to  oblige  a  valu- 
able friend.  But  to  favor  Henry  was  to  offend  Lewis  under 
whose  shelter  he  had  taken  refuge.  The  French  bishops 
were  many  of  them  as  violent  as  Becket  himself  The 
French  people  were  on  the  same  side  from  natural  enmity 
to  England,  and  Pope  Alexander  was  in  the  same  difficulty 
in  which  Pope  Clement  found  himself  three  centuries  later 
between  Henry  the  Eighth  and  Charles  the  Fifth.  He  said 
that  he  could  form  no  "  resolution  till  he  had  heard  what 
Becket  had  to  say.  He  suggested  that  the  English  envoys 
should  wait  for  Becket's  arrival ;  but  it  was  uncertain 
when  Becket  might  arrive;  his  French  friends  were  gather- 
ing in  their  rear,  and  might  intercept  their  return.    A  pro- 


Thomas  Becket, 


47 


tracted  stay  was  impossible,  and  they  again  pressed  for  a 
legate.  Alexander  agreed  to  send  some  one,  but  without 
the  ample  powers  which  the  envoys  desired.  He  reserved 
the  final  decision  for  himself 

The  influences  by  which  the  papal  court  was  determined 
were  already  too  grossly  notorious.  A  decision  given  in 
France  would  be  the  decision  which  would  please  the  King 
of  France.  The  envoys  went  home,  taking  with  them  a 
complimentary  nuncio  from  the  pope,  and  they  had  some  dif- 
ficulty in  escaping  an  attempt  to  waylay  and  capture  them. 

They  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Becket  appeared  at  Sens. 
He  was  received  with  no  great  warmth  by  the  pope,  and 
still  more  coldly  by  the  cardinals  "  whose  nostrils  the  scent 
of  lucre  had  infected."^  French  pressure,  however,  soon 
produced  its  effect.  He  had  come  magnificently  attended 
from  Soissons.  His  cause  was  openly  espoused  by  the 
French  nation.  At  his  second  interview,  on  his  knees  at 
Alexander's  feet  he  represented  that  he  was  the  victim  of 
his  devotion  to  the  Holy  See  and  the  Catholic  faith.  He 
had  only  to  yield  on  the  Constitutions  to  be  restored  at 
once  to  favor  and  power.  The  Constitutions  were  read 
over,  and  he  asked  how  it  was  possible  for  him  to  acknowl- 
edge laws  which  reduced  the  clergy  into  common  mortals, 
and  restricted  appeals  to  the  last  depositary  of  justice  on 
earth. 

Herbert  of  Bosham  states  that  the  pope  and  cardinals 
had  never  yet  seen  the  Constitutions,  but  had  only  heard  of 
them.  This  is  simply  incredible,  and,  like  many  other 
stories  of  this  interesting  but  interested  writer,  is  confuted 
by  the  facts  of  the  case.  John  of  Salisbury  had  said  that 
the  proceedings  at  Clarendon  were  better  known  on  the  con- 
tinent than  in  England.  They  had  been  watched  in  Fi-ance 
for  almost  a  year  with  the  closest  attention.  Bishops  and 
abbots  had  gone  to  and  fro  between  the  pope  and  the  Eng- 
lish court  with  no  other  object  than  to  find  some  terms  of 
1  "Quorum  nares  odor  lucri  infecerat." 


48 


Life  and  Times  of 


compromise.  It  is  not  conceivable  that  after  sending  an 
order  to  Becket  to  submit,  after  Becket  had  first  consented, 
had  then  suspended  himself  for  the  sin  of  acquiesence,  and 
had  been  absolved  by  Alexander  himself,  the  Holy  Father 
should  never  have  acquainted  himself  with  the  particulars 
of  the  controversy.  It  is  no  less  incredible,  therefore,  that, 
after  hearing  the  Constitutions  read,  the  pope  should  have 
severely  blamed  Becket,  as  Herbert  also  says  that  he  did, 
for  having  ever  consented  at  all.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the 
Constitutions  found  no  favor.  Parts  of  them  were  found 
tolerable,  but  parts  intolerable,  especially  the  restriction  of 
the  appeals.  Again  the  pope  took  time  for  reflection. 
English  money  had  secured  a  powerful  faction  among  his 
advisers,  and  they  were  not  ungrateful.  Henry,  they  said, 
would  no  doubt  modify  the  objectionable  articles ;  and  it 
was  unsafe  to  alienate  him  at  so  dangerous  a  time.  In  pri- 
vate they  sharply  blamed  Becket  for  having  raised  so  inop- 
portune a  storm ;  and  but  for  his  own  adroitness  the  arch- 
bishop would  have  been  defeated  after  all.  Once  more  he 
sought  the  pope's  presence.  He  confessed  his  sins,  and  he 
tempted  Alexander  with  the  hope  of  rescuing  the  nomina- 
tion to  the  see  of  Canterbury  from  secular  interference. 
He  had  been  intruded  into  Christ's  sheej^fold,  he  said,  by  the 
secular  power ; and  from  this  source  all  his  subsequent 
troubles  had  arisen.  The  bishops  at  Northampton  had  bade 
him  resign.  He  could  not  resign  at  their  bidding,  but  he 
•  threw  himself  and  his  office  on  his  holiness's  mercy.  He 
had  accepted  the  archbishopric  nncanouically.  He  now  re- 
linquished it,  to  be  restored  or  not  restored  as  the  pope 
might  please. 

It  was  a  bold  stroke,  and  it  nearly  failed.    Many  cardi- 

1  "  Ascendi  in  ovile  Christi.  sed  non  per  ipsum  ostium:  velut  quern  non 
canonica  vocavit  electio,  sed  terror  publicce  potestatis  intrusit."  — Materials 
for  the  History  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  vol.  ii.  p.  243.  But  all  these  accounts 
of  conversations  must  be  received  with  caution.  The  accounts  vary  irrec- 
oncilably; and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  biographers  for  their  master  and  his 
cause  infects  every  line  of  their  narrative. 


TJiomas  Becket, 


49 


nals  saw  in  the  offer  a  road  out  of  the  difficulty.  Terms 
could  now  be  arranged  with  Henry,  and  Becket  could  be 
provided  for  elsewhere.  For  some  hours  or  days  his  friends 
thought  his  cause  was  lost.  But  the  balance  wavered  at 
last  so  far  in  his  favor  that  the  sacrifice  was  not  permitted. 
He  was  not,  as  he  had  expected,  to  be  sent  back  in  triumph 
to  England  supported  by  threats  of  interdict  and  excommu- 
nication  to  triumph  over  his  enemies.  But  he  was  reinstated 
as  archbishop.  He  was  assigned  a  residence  at  the  Cister- 
cian monastery  of  Pontigny,  thirty  miles  from  Sens  ;  and 
there  he  was  directed  to  remain  quiet  and  avoid  for  the 
present  irritating  the  king  further.^ 

The  king  was  sufficiently  irritated  already.  The  support 
which  Lewis  had  given  to  Becket  meant  too  probably  that 
war  with  France  was  not  far  off.  Becket  himself  was  virt- 
ually in  rebellion,  and  his  character  made  it  easy  to  foresee 
the  measures  which  he  would  adopt  if  not  prevented.  The 
posts  were  watched,  strangers  were  searched  for  letters. 
English  subjects  were  forbidden  to  introduce  brief,  bull,  or 
censure  either  from  the  pope  or  from  the  archbishop.  The 
archbishop's  estates  were  sequestrated.  AVere  he  allowed 
to  retain  his  large  income  and  spend  it  abroad,  he  would 
use  it  to  buy  friends  among  the  cardinals.  The  see  was 
put  under  administrators  —  the  rents,  so  Henry  afterwards 
swore,  were  chiefly  laid  out  in  management,  and  the  surplus 
was  distributed  in  charity.  The  incumbents  of  the  arch- 
bishop's benefices  being  his  special  creatures  were  expelled, 
and  loyal  priests  were  put  in  their  places.  Another  harder 
measure  was  adopted.  All  his  relations,  all  his  connections 
and  dependents,  except  a  few  who  gave  securities  for  good 
conduct,  were  banished  from  England,  four  hundred  of 
them,  men,  women,  and  children.    Either  it  was  feared  the 

1  The  answer  supposed  to  have  been  given  by  the  pope,  permitting  him 
to  use  the  censures,  belongs  to  the  following  year.  It  refers  to  the  seques- 
tration of  the  Canterbury  estates,  and  this  did  not  take  place  till  after  Becket 
had  been  settled  at  Pontigny. 

4 


50 


Life  and  Times  of 


archbishop  would  employ  them  to  disturb  the  country,  or  it 
was  mere  vengeance,  or  it  was  to  make  Becket  an  expen- 
sive guest  to  Lewis. 

All  tliis  Becket  was  obliged  to  bear  with.  Armed  as  he 
was  with  lightnings,  he  was  forbidden  to  make  use  of  them. 
Xay,  worse,  the  pope  himself  could  not  even  yet  be  de- 
pended on.  Angry  as  he  was,  the  king  wrote  to  propose 
that  Alexander  should  visit  him  in  England,  or,  if  this  were 
impossible,  that  the  pope,  Lewis,  and  Henry  should  meet  in 
Normandy  and  take  measures  together  for  the  common 
welfare  of  Christendom.  Henry  had  no  wish  to  join  Bar- 
barossa  if  he  could  help  it ;  and  neither  the  pope  nor  Lewis 
could  wish  to  force  him.  If  such  a  meeting  came  off,  it  was 
easy  to  foresee  the  issue.  John  of  Salisbury,  who  was 
Becket's  agent  at  the  French  court,  when  he  heard  what 
was  intended,  wrote  that  it  must  be  prevented  at  all  haz- 
ards. In  terms  not  very  complimentary  to  the  holy  father's 
understanding,  the  archbishop  imiDlored  Alexander  to  con- 
sent to  no  meeting  with  the  Iving  of  England,  except  one 
at  which  he  should  himself  be  present.  "  The  king,"  he 
said,  "  is  so  subtle  with  his  words  that  he  would  confound 
the  apostolic  religion  itself.  He  will  find  the  weak  points 
of  the  pope's  character,  and  will  trip  him  up  to  his  destruc- 
tion." ^ 

The  Kinp:  of  France  (John  of  Salisbury  wrote  to  Becket)  ad- 
mits that  he  fears  to  urge  the  pyope  to  use  the  censures  in  your 
behalf.  If  this  be  so  now,  how  will  it  be  when  our  king  is  here 
in  person,  arguing,  promising,  and  threatening  with  the  skill 
which  you  know  that  he  possesses?  He  has  secured  the  Count  of 
Flanders  —  the  countess,  like  a  prudent  matron,  is  thinking  of 
marriages  for  her  children  —  and  has  sent  him  three  hundred  ells 
of  linen  to  make  shirts.  The  Archbishop  of  Rheims  is  the  count's 

dear  friend  I  advise  you,  therefore,  to  trust  in  God  and 

give  yourself  to  prayer.    Put  away  thoughts  of  this  world ;  pray 

1  "  Sed  et  citiiis  poterit  apostolica  circumveniri  religio  ex  varietate  ver- 
borum  regis  ....  et  si  rex  infirmiora  domini  papfe  prienoverit  exitus  via- 
rum  suarum  obstruet  offendiculis."'  —  Materials,  vol.  ii.  p.  346. 


Thomas  Bechet, 


51 


and  meditate.  The  Psalms  will  be  better  reading  for  you  than 
philosophy;  and  to  confer  with  spiritual  men,  whose  example 
may  influence  your  devotion,  will  profit  you  more  than  indulg- 
ing in  litigious  speculations.  I  say  this  from  my  heart:  take  it 
as  you  please. 

These  words  show  Becket  to  us  as  through  an  inverted 
telescope,  the  magnifying  mist  blown  away,  in  his  true  out- 
lines and  true  proportions.  The  true  Becket,  as  the  pope 
knew  him,  was  not  the  person  peculiarly  fitted  to  be  the 
Church's  champion  in  a  cause  which  was  really  sacred. 
John  of  Salisbury  thought  evidently  at  this  time  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  hope  that  the  archbishop  would  really 
succeed.  He  wished,  he  said  in  a  letter  to  the  Bishop  of 
Exeter,  to  make  his  peace  with  the  king.  He  could  not 
desert  the  archbishop,  but  he  was  loyal  to  his  sovereign. 
He  called  God  to  witness  how  often  he  had  rebuked  the 
archbishop  for  his  foolish  violence.-^  He  could  not  promise 
that  he  would  quit  his  old  master's  service,  but  in  all  else  he 
would  be  guided  by  the  Bishop  of  Exeter's  advice. 

1  "  Novit  enim  cordium  inspector  quod  saspius  et  asperins  quam  aliquis 
niortalium  corripuerim  doininum  archiepiscopum  de  his  in  quibus  ab  initio 
doniinum  regem  et  suos  zelo  qiiodam  inconsultius  visus  est  ad  amaritudi- 
nem  provocasse,"  etc.  —  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  203,  ed.  Giles. 


52 


Life  a) id  Times  of 


CHAPTER  YI. 

Meanwhile  the  quarrel  between  Becket  and  the  King 
of  England  became  the  topic  of  the  hour  throughout 
Europe.  Which  was  right  and  which  was  wrong,  what  the 
pope  wouhl  do  or  ought  to  do,  and  whether  England  w^ould 
join  Germany  in  the  schism  —  these  questions  were  the 
theme  of  perpetual  discussions  in  council  and  conclave, 
were  debated  in  universities,  and  were  fought  over  at  con- 
vent and  castle  dinner-tables.  Opinions  were  so  divided 
that,  in  a  cause  which  concerned  Heaven  so  nearly,  people 
were, looking  for  Heaven  to  give  some  sign.  As  facts  were 
wanting,  legend  took  the  place  of  them,  and  stories  began  to 
spread,  either  at  the  time  or  immediately  after,  of  direct 
and  picturesque  manifestations  of  grace  which  had  been 
vouchsafed  in  Becket's  favor.  It  was  said  that  when  dining 
with  Pope  Alexander  he  had  twice  unconsciously  turned 
water  into  wine.  At  Pontigny  he  had  been  graciously 
visited  by  our  Lady  herself.  He  had  left  England  ill  pro- 
vided with  clothes.  His  wardrobe  was  in  disorder;  his 
drawers  especially,  besides  being  dirty,  were  in  holes.  He 
was  specially  delicate  in  such  matters,  and  was  too  modest 
to  confess  his  difficulties.  He  stayed  at  home  one  day  alone 
to  do  the  repairs  himself.  He  was  pricking  his  fingers  and 
succeeding  indifferently,  when  our  Lady  —  who,  as  the  biog- 
raphers tell  us,  had  been  taught  to  sew  when  she  was  at 
Nazareth  —  came  in,  sat  down,  took  the  drawers  out  of  the 
archbishop's  hand,  mended  them  excellently,  and  went  as 
she  had  come.  The  archbishop  had  not  recognized  his 
visitor.  Soon  after  a  singular  case  of  church  discipline  was 
referred  to  his  decision.    A  young  Frenchman,  specially 


Thomas  Bechet. 


53 


devoted  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  had  built  a  chapel  in  her  honor 
not  fur  from  Pontigny,  had  placed  her  image  over  the  altar, 
and  had  obtained  ordination  himself  that  he  might  make  his 
daily  offerings  there.  But  he  neither  would  nor  could  re- 
peat any  mass  but  the  mass  of  the  Virgin.  The  authorities 
reprimanded  him  but  to  no  purpose.  Our  Lady  filled  his 
soul,  and  left  no  room  for  any  other  object.  The  irregular- 
ity was  flagrant  —  the  devotion  was  commendable.  Becket 
was  consulted  as  to  what  should  be  done,  and  Becket  sent 
for  the  offender  and  gently  put  before  him  that  he  was 
making  a  scandal  which  must  positively  cease.  The  youth 
rushed  away  in  despair,  and  flung  himself  before  our  Lady's 
imao^e,  declarinfr  that  his  love  was  for  her  and  for  her  alone. 
She  must  save  him  from  interference,  or  he  would  pull  the 
chapel  down  and  do  other  wild  and  desperate  things.  The 
eyes  of  the  image  began  to  smile,  the  neck  bent,  the  lips 
opened.  "  Have  no  fear,  carissime,^'  it  said :  "  go  to  the 
archbishop.  Entreat  again  to  be  allowed  to  continue  your 
devotions  to  me.  If  he  refuses,  ask  him  if  he  remembers 
who  mended  his  drawers."  We  may  guess  how  the  story 
ended. 

With  tales  of  this  kind  floating  in  the  air,  the  first  year  of 
Becket's  exile  wore  out,  the  pope  giving  uncertain  answers 
to  the  passionate  appeals  which  continued  to  be  made  to  him, 
according  to  the  fortune  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  in  Italy. 
Frederick  being  at  last  driven  out  of  Lombardy,  the  pope 
recovered  heart,  and  held  out  brighter  prospects.  He  sent 
Becket  permission  to  excommunicate  the  persons  in  occu- 
pation of  his  estates  and  benefices,  and  he  promised  to  ratify 
his  sentence  if  opportunely  issued.  He  did  not  permit,  but 
also  did  not  specially  forbid,  him  to  excommunicate  the 
king,  while  Lewis,  with  Becket's  knowledge,  and  in  the 
opinion  of  the  cardinals  who  came  afterwards  to  inquire 
into  his  conduct,  at  Becket's  direct  instigation,  prepared  to 
invade  Normandy.  Henry,  well  informed  of  what  was 
coming,  began  now  to  turn  to  Germany  in  earnest.  By 


54 


Life  and  Times  of 


the  advice  of  his  barons,  as  he  said,  he  wrote  to  Reginald, 
Frederick's  archbishop  chancellor,  to  tell  him  that  he  was 
about  to  send  an  embassy  to  the  pope  to  demand  that  he 
should  be  relieved  of  Becket,  and  that  the  Constitutions 
should  be  ratified.  If  justice  was  refused  him,  he  and  his 
people  were  prepared  to  renounce  their  allegiance  to  Alex- 
ander and  to  unite  with  Germany.^  The  chancellor  was 
himself  invited  to  England  to  arrange  a  marriage  be- 
tween the  Princess  Matilda  and  the  Duke  of  Saxony.  A 
decided  step  of  this  kind  it  was  thought  might  bring  the 
pope  to  his  senses. 

Separation  from  Rome,  indeed,  was  the  true  alternative : 
and  had  the  country  been  prepared  to  follow  Henry,  and 
had  Henry  himself  been  prepared  at  the  bottom  of  his  mind 
to  defy  the  pope  and  the  worst  that  he  could  do,  the  great 
schism  between  the  Teutonic  and  Latin  races  might  havef 
been  antedated,  and  the  course  of  history  been  changed. 
But  Henry  was  threatening  with  but  half  a  heart,  and  the 
country  was  less  prepared  than  he.  In  Germany  itself,  the 
pope  in  the  end  proved  too  strong  for  the  emperor.  In 
England,  even  Wickliife  was  premature.  With  all  its  enor- 
mous faults,  the  Roman  Catholic  organization  in  both  coun- 
tries was  producing  better  fruits  on  the  whole  than  any 
other  which  could  have  been  substituted  for  it ;  and  almost 
three  centuries  had  yet  to  pass,  bringing  with  them  accumu- 
lating masses  of  insincerities  and  injustices,  before  Europe 
could  become  ripe  for  a  change.  A  succession  of  Beckets 
would  have  precipitated  a  rupture,  whatever  might  be  the 
cost  or  consequences ;  but  the  succeeding  prelates  were 
men  of  the  world  as  well  as  statesmen,  and  were  too  wise  to 
press  theories  to  their  logical  consequences. 

The  Archbishop  of  Cologne  came  to  London  with  the 
taint  of  his  schism  upon  him.    The  court  entertained  him. 
The  German  marriage  was  arranged.    But  Henry  received 
a  startling  intimation  that  he  must  not  try  the  barons  too 
1  Giles,  vol.  i.  p.  316. 


TJiomas  Beehet. 


55 


far.  They  had  supported  him  in  what  they  held  to  be 
reasonable  demands  to  which  the  pope  might  be  expected 
to  consent.  They  were  not  ready  to  support  him  in  a  re- 
volt from  Rome,  even  thoudi  disojuised  behind  the  name  of 
an  antipope.  The  liunchbacked  Earl  of  Leicester  refused 
Barbarossa's  chancellor  the  kiss  of  peace  in  open  court  at 
Westminster,  and  on  his  departure  the  altars  at  which  the 
schismatic  prelate  had  said  mass  were  destroyed.^ 

Alexander  meanwhile  had  written  to  Foliot,  directing 
him  and  the  Bishop  of  Hereford  to  remonstrate  with  the 
king,  to  entreat  him  to  act  in  conformity  with  his  past  repu- 
tation and  to  put  an  end  to  the  scandal  which  he  had  caused^ 
hinting  that  if  Henry  persisted  in  refusing  he  might  be  un- 
able to  restrain  the  archbishop  from  excommunicating  liim. 
The  two  bishops  discharged  their  commission.  "The  king," 
Foliot  replied  to  the  pope,  "  took  what  we  said  in  excellent 
part.  He  assured  us  that  his  affection  towards  your  holiness 
remained  as  it  had  been,  but  he  said  that  he  had  stood  by 
you  in  your  misfortunes,  and  that  he  had  met  with  a  bad 
return.  He  had  hindered  no  one  from  going  to  you  on 
your  invitation,  and  he  meant  to  hinder  no  one.  As  to 
appeals,  he  merely  claimed  that  each  case  should  be  first 
thoroughly  heard  in  his  own  courts.  If  justice  could  not 
be  had  there,  appeals  to  Rome  might  remain  without  ob- 
jection from  himself  If  the  emperor  was  excommunicated, 
he  promised  to  break  off  correspondence  with  him.  As  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  he  had  not  been  expelled 
from  England  ;  he  had  left  it  of  his  own  accord,  and  might 
return  when  he  pleased.  To  the  Church,  now  as  always, 
he  wished  to  submit  his  differences  with  the  archbishop." 

If  this  was  not  all  which  the  pope  might  expect,  Foliot 
advised  him  to  be  contented  with  it.  "  The  king,"  he  con- 
tinued, "having  consented  to  defer  to  the  Church,  considers 
that  right  is  on  his  side.  Let  your  holiness  therefore  be- 
ware of  measures  which  may  drive  him  and  his  subjects  into 
1  Matthew  Paris,  Chronica  Majora,  1165. 


56 


Life  and  Times  of 


revolt.  A  wounded  limb  may  be  healed  ;  a  limb  cut  off  is 
lost  forever.  Some  of  us  may  bear  persecution  on  your 
account,  but  there  will  not  be  wanting  those  who  will  bow 
their  knee  to  Baal.  Men  can  be  found  to  fill  the  English 
sees  who  will  obey  the  antipope.  Many,  indeed,  already 
wish  for  the  change."  ^ 

The  pope,  who  did  not  understand  the  English  character, 
was  as  much  disturbed  as  Henry  could  have  desired  to  see 
him.  He  found  that  he  had  encouraged  Becket  too  far. 
He  wrote  to  press  upon  him  that  the  days  were  evil ;  that 
he  must  endeavor  to  conciliate  the  king ;  that  he  must  on 
no  account  excommunicate  him,  or  lay  England  under  in- 
terdict, or  venture  any  violent  courses,  at  any  rate  before 
the  ensuing  Easter.^  He  wrote  affectionately  to  Henry 
himself.  He  thanked  the  two  bishops  with  the  utmost 
warmth,  and  expressed  himself  delighted  with  the  accounts 
which  he  received  of  the  king's  frame  of  mind.^  The  Arch- 
bishop of  Rouen  and  the  Empress  Matilda  had  written  to 
him  to  the  same  purpose,  and  had  given  him  equal  pleasure. 
If  Foliot  could  bring  about  a  reconciliation,  he  would  love 
him  forever.  Meanwhile  he  would  follow  Foliot's  advice 
and  keep  Becket  quiet. 

A  very  slight  concession  from  Becket  would  now  have 
made  an  arrangement  possible,  for  Henry  was  tired  of  the 
quarrel.  He  invited  the  Norman  prelates  to  meet  him  at  a 
conference  at  Chinon.  The  archbishop  was  expected  to 
attend,  and  peace  was  then  to  have  been  arranged.  In  this 
spirit  the  Bishop  of  Hereford  addressed  the  archbishop  him- 
self, entreating  him  to  agree  to  moderate  conditions.  Far 
away  was  Becket  from  concessions.  He  knew  better  than 
the  pope  the  state  of  English  feeling.  He  was  in  corre- 
spondence (it  is  likely  enough)  with  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 
At  all  events  he  must  have  heard  of  Leicester's  treatment 

^  Foliot  to  the  Pope,  1165.    Hoveden  (ed.  Giles),  vol.  i.  p.  231. 

2  Giles,  vol.  i.  p.  324. 

3  "  Gaudemus  et  exultamus  super  ea  devotione  ejiisdem  regis." 


Thomas  Bechet. 


57 


of  Reginald  of  Coloojne.  He  knew  that  in  fearinoj  that 
England  would  go  into  schism  the  pope  was  frightened  by 
a  shadow.  He  had  not  defied  king,  peers,  and  bishops  at 
Northampton  that  the  fight  should  end  in  a  miserable  com- 
promise. Sharply  he  rebuked  the  Bishop  of  Hereford  for 
his  timid  counsels.  For  you,"  he  said,  "  I  am  made  anath- 
ema, and  when  you  should  stand  by  me  you  advise  me  to 
yield.  You  should  rather  have  bidden  me  draw  the  sword 
of  Peter  and  avenge  the  blood  of  the  saints.  I  mourn  over 
you  as  over  my  firstborn.  Up,  my  son.  Cry  aloud  and 
cease  not.  Lift  up  your  voice,  lest  God's  anger  fall  on  you 
and  all  the  nation  perish.  I  grieve  for  the  king.  Tribula- 
tion impends  over  him.  They  have  devoured  Jacob  and 
laid  waste  his  dwelling-place."  ^ 

To  John  of  Salisbury  Becket  announced  that  his  patience 
was  exhausted,  that  when  Easter  was  passed  he  would  be 
free,  and  that  in  his  own  opinion  he  ought  to  forbear  no 
longer.  He  desired  to  know  how  far  his  friend  agreed 
with  him.  John  of  Salisbury  was  more  prudent  than  his 
master.  "  Precipitate  action,"  he  said,  "  may  expose  you  to 
ridicule  and  ruin.  You  ask  my  advice.  I  recommend  you 
not  to  rely  on  the  Holy  See.  Write  to  the  empress  mother, 
write  to  the  Archbishop  of  Rouen  and  the  other  prelates. 
Tell  them  you  are  ready  to  obey  the  law  and  go  back  if 
you  are  treated  with  justice.  The  adversary  will  not  agree 
to  conditions  really  fiir,  but  you  will  have  set  yourself  right 
with  the  world.  Should  the  king  be  more  moderate  than  I 
think  he  will  be,  do  not  stand  upon  securities.  Content 
yourself  with  a  promise  under  the  king's  hand  and  the  as- 
surance of  the  empress  mother.  Do  not  try  the  censures. 
Y^'ou  know  my  opinion  about  this,  and  you  once  agreed  with 
me.  The  king  is  not  afraid  of  excommunication.  The  bish- 
ops and  most  of  the  clergy  have  stood  by  him  ;  some  may 
be  with  us  in  heart,  but  they  are  not  to  be  depended  on."  ^ 

1  Becket  to  the  Bishop  of  Hereford,  Hoveclen.  I  am  obliged  greatly  to 
compress  the  diffuse  rhetoric  of  the  archbi>hop. 

2  John  of  Salisbury  to  Becket,  April,  11G6  (abridged). 


58 


Life  and  Times  of 


Becket,  like  most  persons  of  his  temperament,  asked  ad- 
vice without  meaning  to  follow  it.  He  addressed  the  king 
in  a  letter  which  Herbert  describes  as  being  of  extreme 
sweetness.  It  was  to  entreat  him  to  let  loose  the  bride  of 
Christ  whom  he  held  in  captivity,  and  to  warn  him  that  if 
he  persevered  in  his  wicked  ways,  "  Christ  would  gird  his 
sword  upon  his  thigh,"  and  would  descend  from  heaven  to 
punish  him.  Inflated  language  of  this  kind  was  not  general 
at  that  time.  It  was  peculiar  to  Becket,  and  we  need  not 
be  surprised  that  it  produced  no  effect  on  Henry.  He  went 
to  Normandy  to  the  Chinon  conference  immediately  after 
Easter,  1166,  hoping  there  to  meet  Becket  and  speak  with 
him  and  with  the  other  prelates  as  with  reasonable  men. 
He  did  not  find  Becket  there,  but  he  found  a  second  letter 
from  him,  which  from  a  saint  would  ha^  e  tried  the  temper 
of  a  more  patient  sovereign  than  Henry,  and  from  a  man 
whom  he  had  known  so  lately  as  a  defaulting  chancellor 
and  unscrupulous  politician  was  insolent  and  absurd.  After 
reproaching  the  king  for  allowing  him  to  live  on  the  charity 
of  Lewis  of  France,  the  archbishop  proceeded  :  — 

Yon  are  my  king,  my  lord,  and  my  spiritual  son.  As  you  are 
my  kinp:,  I  owe  you  reverence  and  admonition;  as  you  are  my 
lord,  I  owe  you  such  obedience  as  consists  with  the  honor  of 
God;  as  you  are  my  son,  I  owe  you  the  chastisement  which  is 
due  from  the  father  to  the  child.  You  hold  your  authority  from 
the  Church,  which  consists  of  clergy  and  laymen.  The  clergy 
have  sole  charge  of  things  spiritual  :  kings,  earls,  and  counts 
ha-ve  ])Oweis  delefrated  to  them  from  the  Church,  to  preserve 
peace  and  the  Church's  unity.  Delegated  from  the  Church,  I 
say.  Therefore  it  rests  not  with  you  to  tell  bishops  whom  they 
may  excommunicate,  or  to  force  clergy  to  their  answers  in  secu- 
lar courts,  or  to  interfere  with  tithes,  or  do  any  of  those  things 
to  which  you  pretend  in  the  name  of  custom.  Remember  your 
coronation  oath.  Restore  my  property.  Allow  me  to  return  to 
Canterbury,  and  I  will  obey  you  as  far  as  the  honor  of  God  and 
the  Uoly  See  and  our  sacred  order  permits  me.    Refuse,  and  be 


Thomas  Bechet. 


59 


assured  you  will  not  fail  to  experience  the  severe  displeasure  of 
Almighty  God.^ 

This  letter  appears  to  have  been  placed  in  Henry's  hands 
immediately  before  he  met  the  Norman  bishops.  On  en- 
tering the  conference  he  was  ill  with  agitation.  Persons 
present  said  that  he  was  in  tears.  He  told  the  bishops  that 
Becket  was  aiming  at  his  destruction,  soul  and  body.  He 
said  they  were  no  better  than  traitors  for  not  protecting 
him  more  effectually  from  the  violence  of  a  single  man.^ 
The  Archbishop  of  Rouen  protested  against  the  word  "trai- 
tors." But  it  was  no  time  for  niceties  of  expression.  War 
with  France  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  out,  and  Becket, 
it  was  now  plain,  meant  to  give  it  the  character  of  a  sacred 
war  by  excommunicating  Henry.  Easter  was  past:  he 
was  free  to  act,  and  clearly  enough  he  meant  to  act.  The 
Bishop  of  Lisieux  advised  an  instant  appeal  to  the  pope, 
which  would  keep  Becket's  hands  tied  for  the  moment. 
He  and  another  bishop  rushed  off  to  Pontigny  to  serve  the 
notice  on  him.  They  arrived  too  late.  Before  launching 
his  thunderbolts  Becket  had  gone  to  Soissons,  there  to  pre- 
pare for  the  operation. 

At  Soissons  were  to  be  found  in  special  presence  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  St.  Gregory,  whose  assistance  the  arch- 
bishop considered  would  be  peculiarly  valuable  to  him ;  and 
not  they  only,  but  another  saint,  Beatus  Drausius,  the 
patron  of  pugilists  and  duellists,  who  promised  victory  to 
intending  combatants  on  their  passing  a  night  at  his  shrine.^ 

1  Becket  to  the  King,  May,  1166  (abridged). 

2  "  Tandem  dixit  quod  omnes  proditores  erant,  qui  eum  adhibita  opera 
et  diligentia  ab  unius  hominis  infestatione  nolebant  impedire." 

3  "  Archiepiscopus  noster  in  procinctu  ferendae  sententite  constitutus  iter 
arripuerat  ad  urbem  Suessionum  orationis  causa,  ut  Beatae  Virgini,  cujusibi 
memoria  Celebris  est,  et  Beato  Drausio,  ad  quern  confugiunt  pugnaturi,  et 
Beato  Gregorio  Anglicanae  Ecclesise  fundatori,  qui  in  eadeni  urbe  requiescit, 
agonem  suum  precibus  commendaret.  Est  autem  Beatus  Drausius  gloriosis- 
simus  confessor  qui,  sicut  Franci  et  Lotharingi  credunt,  pugiles  qui  ad  me- 
moriam  ejus  pernoctant  reddit  invictos."  —  John  of  Salisbury  to  the  Bishop 
of  Exeter.   Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  227,  ed.  Giles. 


60 


Life  and  Times  of 


Becket  gave  St.  Drausius  three  nights  —  or  perhaps  one 
to  each  saiut  —  and  thus  fortified  he  betook  himself  to 
Yezelay,  where  at  AVhitsuntide  vast  numbers  of  people 
assembled  from  all  parts  of  France.  There  from  the  pulpit 
after  sermon  on  Whitsuntide,  with  the  appropriate  cere- 
monies of  bells  and  lighted  candles  quenched,  he  took  ven- 
geance at  last  upon  his  enemies.  He  suspended  the  Bishop 
of  Salisbury.  He  cursed  John  of  Oxford  and  tlie  Arch- 
deacon of  Ilchester,  two  leadino^  churchmen  of  the  kinij's 
party.  He  cursed  Chief  Justice  de  Luci,  who  had  directed 
the  sequestration  of  his  see.  He  cursed  Ranulf  de  Broc 
and  every  person  employed  in  administering  his  estates. 
Finally  he  cursed  every  one  who  maintained  the  Constitu- 
tions of  Clarendon,  and  he  released  the  bishops  from  their 
promise  to  observe  them,  A  remnant  of  prudence  or  a  re- 
port of  the  king's  illness  led  him  partially  to  withhold  his 
hand.  He  did  not  actually  curse  Henry,  but  he  threatened 
that  he  shortly  would  curse  him  unless  he  repented. 

In  high  delight  with  himself  tlie  archbishop  issued  a 
pastoral  to  the  bishops  of  England  telling  them  what  he 
had  done,  talking  in  his  usual  high  style  of  the  rights  of 
priests  over  kings  and  princes,  and  ordering  them  at  their 
souls'  peril  to  see  that  the  sentence  was  obeyed.  He  wrote 
at  the  same  time  to  the  pope  inclosing  the  terms  of  the 
excommunication,  his  condemnation  of  the  Constitutions, 
and  the  threats  which  he  had  addressed  to  the  king.  These 
threats  he  declared  his  intention  of  carrying  into  effect  un- 
less the  king  showed  speedy  signs  of  submission,  and  he 
required  Alexander  in  a  tone  of  imperious  consequence  to 
confirm  what  he  had  done. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  censures  in  England  the  bishops 
met  in  London  and  determined  on  a  further  appeal  to  the 
pope.  They  addressed  a  unanimous  and  remarkable  re- 
monstrance to  him,  going  into  the  origin  of  the  quarrel,  in- 
sisting on  the  abominable  conduct  of  many  of  the  clergy, 
the  necessity  of  reform,  and  the  moderation  which  the  king 


Thomas  Bechet. 


61 


had  shown.^  The  Constitutions  which  he  had  adopted  they 
declared  to  have  been  taken  from  the  established  customs 
of  the  realm.  If  they  appeared  objectionable,  his  holiness 
need  but  point  to  the  articles  of  which  he  disapproved,  and 
they  should  be  immediately  altered.  The  archbishop's  un- 
called-for violence  had  been  the  sole  obstacle  to  an  arrange- 
ment. 

With  this  letter  and  others  from  the  king  an  embassy 
was  dispatched  to  Rome,  John  of  Oxford,  whom  Becket 
had  personally  excommunicated,  being  significantly  one  of 
its  members. 

Pending  the  result  of  the  appeal,  the  English  bishops  in 
a  body  remonstrated  with  Becket  himself.  They  reminded 
him  of  his  personal  obligations  to  the  king,  and  of  the 
dangers  which  he  was  provoking.  The  king,  they  said, 
had  listened  coldly  hitherto  to  the  advances  of  Germany. 
But  these  good  dispositions  might  not  last  forever.  For 
the  archbishop  to  scatter  curses  without  allowing  the  per- 
sons denounced  an  opportunity  of  answering  for  themselves, 
was  against  reason  and  precedent;  and  they  had  placed 
themselves  under  the  protection  of  his  holiness. 

Becket  was  not  to  be  frightened  by  threats  of  German  al- 
liance. He  knew  better.  He  lectured  the  bishops  for  their 
want  of  understanding.  He  rebuked  them  for  their  coward- 
ice and  want  of  faith.  The  Bishop  of  London  had  recalled 
to  him  unpleasant  passages  in  his  own  past  history.  The 
tone  of  Foliot  as  well  as  his  person  drove  Becket  wild.  He 
spoke  of  the  Bishop  of  London  as  an  Ahitophel  and  a  Doeg. 

Your  letter  (he  replied  to  him)  is  like  a  scorpion  with  a  sting 
in  its  tail.  You  profess  obedience  to  me,  and  to  avoid  obe- 
dience you  appeal  to  the  pope.  Little  will  you  gain  by  it.  You 
have  no  feeling  for  me,  or  for  the  Church,  or  for  the  king,  whose 

1  "  Qui  cum  pacem  regni  sui  enormi  insolentium  quorundam  clericorum 
excessu  non  mediocriter  turbari  cognosceret,  clero  debitam  exhibens  rever- 
entiam  eorundem  excessus  ad  ecclesiae  judices  retulit  episcopos.  ut  gladiua 
gladio  subveniat."  —  Ad  Alexandrum  Pontifcem.   Hoveden,  vol.  i.  p.  266. 


62 


Life  and  Times  of 


soul  is  perishing.  You  blame  me  for  threatening  him.  What 
father  will  see  his  son  go  astray  and  hesitate  to  restrain  that 
son?  Who  will  not  use  the  rod  that  he  may  spare  the  sword  ? 
The  ship  is  in  the  storm  :  I  am  at  the  helm,  and  you  bid  me 
sleep.  To  him  who  speaks  thus  to  me  I  reply,  "  Get  thee  be- 
hind me,  Satan  I"  The  king,  you  say,  desires  to  do  what  is 
right.  ^ly  clergy  are  banished,  my  possessions  are  taken  from 
me,  the  sword  hangs  over  my  neck.  Do  you  call  this  right? 
Tell  the  king  that  the  Lord  of  men  and  angels  has  established 
two  powers,  princes  and  priests  —  the  first  earthly,  the  second 
spiritual;  the  first  to  obey,  the  second  to  command.  He  who 
breaks  this  order  breaks  the  ordinance  of  God.  Tell  him  it  is 
no  dishonor  to  him  to  submit  to  those  to  whom  God  himself 
defers,  calling  them  gods  in  the  sacred  writings.  For  thus  he 
speaks:  "  I  have  said  ye  are  gods;  "  and  again,  "  I  will  make 
thee  a  God  unto  Pharaoh; "  "  Thou  shalt  take  nothing  from  the 
gods  "  (i.  e.  the  priests).^  ....  The  king  may  not  judge  his 
•judges;  the  lips  of  the  priest  shall  keep  wisdom.  It  is  written, 
"  Thou  shalt  require  the  law  at  his  mouth,  for  he  is  the  angel  of 
God." 

The  Catholic  Church  would  have  had  but  a  brief  career 
in  this  world  if  the  rulers  of  it  had  been  so  wild  of  mind  as 
this  astonishing  martyr  of  Canterbury.  The  air-bubble, 
when  blown  the  fullest  and  shining  the  brightest,  is  nearest 
to  collapsing  into  a  drop  of  dirty  water.  John  of  Salisbury, 
sympathizing  with  him  and  admiring  him  as  he  generally 
did,  saw  clearly  that  the  pope  could  never  sanction  so  pre- 
posterous an  attitude.  "  I  have  little  trust  in  the  Church 
of  Rome,"  he  said.  "  I  know  the  ways  of  it  and  the  needs 
of  it  too  well.  So  greedy,  so  dishonest  are  the  Romans, 
that  they  use  too  often  the  license  of  power,  and  take  dis- 
pensations to  grant  what  they  say  is  useful  to  the  common- 
wealth, however  fatal  it  may  be  to  religion."  ^ 

1  "  Xon  indignetur  itaque  dominus  noster  deferre  illis  quibus  omnium 
Summus  deferre  non  dedignatur,  deos  appellans  eos  saepius  in  sacris  Ute- 
ris. Sic  enira  dicit,  'Ego  dixi,  Dii  estis,'  etc.;  et  iterum,  'Constitui  te 
deum  Pharaonis,'  '  Et  diis  non  detrahes,'  i.  e.  sacerdotibus,"  etc.  — Becket 
to  Foliot.    Hoveden,  vol.  i.  p.  261. 

2  ''Kecde  ecclesia  Romana,  cujus  mores  et  necessitates  nobis  innotu- 


Thomas  Bechet. 


63 


The  first  practical  effect  of  the  excommunication  was  the 
recoil  of  the  blow  upon  the  archbishop's  entertainers.  In 
the  shelter  of  a  Cistercian  abbey  in  France,  an  English 
subject  was  committing  treason  and  levying  war  against  his 
sovereign  and  his  country.  A  chapter  of  the  Cistercian 
Order  was  held  in  September.  King  Henry  sent  a  message 
to  the  general,  that,  if  his  abbot  continued  to  protect  Becket, 
the  Cistercians  in  England  would  be  suppressed,  and  their 
property  confiscated.  The  startled  general  did  not  dare  to 
resist ;  a  message  was  sent  to  Pontigny ;  in  the  fluttered 
dovecote  it  was  resolved  that  Becket  must  go,  and  it  was  a 
cruel  moment  to  him.  A  fresh  asylum  was  provided  for 
him  at  Sens.  But  he  had  grown  accustomed  to  Pontigny, 
and  had  led  a  pleasant  life  there.  On  his  first  arrival  he 
had  attempted  asceticisms,  but  his  health  had  suffered,  and 
his  severities  had  been  relaxed.  He  was  out  of  spirits  at 
his  departure.  His  tears  were  flowing.  The  abbot  cheered 
him  up,  laughed  at  his  dejection,  and  told  him  there  was 
nothing  in  his  fate  so  particularly  terrible.  Becket  said  that 
he  had  dreamt  the  night  before  that  he  was  to  be  martyred. 
"  Martyrdom  ! "  laughed  the  abbot ;  "  what  has  a  man  who 
eats  and  drinks  like  you  to  do  with  martyrdom  ?  The  cup 
of  wine  which  you  drink  has  small  affinity  with  the  cup  of 
martyrdom."  "  I  confess,"  said  Becket,  "  that  I  indulge  in 
pleasures  of  the  flesh.  Yet  the  good  God  has  deigned  to 
reveal  my  fate  to  me."  ^ 

Sad  at  heart,  the  archbishop  removed  to  Sens  ;  yet  if  the 
pope  stood  firm,  all  might  yet  be  well. 

erunt,  miiltum  confido.  Tot  et  tantse  sunt  necessitates,  tanta  aviditas  et 
improbitas  Romanorum,  ut  interdiim  utatur  licentia  potestatis,  procuret- 
que  ex  dispensatione  quod  reipublicae  dicitur  expedire,  etsi  nou  expediat 
religioni."  —  To  Becket.    Letters,  1166. 

1      Ergo  m arty rio  interibis  ?    Quid  esculento  et  temulentoet  martyri? 
Non  bene  conveniunt,  nec  in  una  sede  morantur, 
calix  vini  quod  potas  et  calix  martyrii.'    'Fateor,'  inquit,  '  corporeis  vo- 
luptatibus  indulgeo.    Bonus  tamen  Dominus,  qui  justificat  impiura,  in- 
digno  dignatus  est  revelare  mysterium.'  "  — Materials^  vol.  i.  p.  51. 


lAfe  and  Times  of 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  archbishop's  letters  show  conclusively  that  the  Con- 
stitutions were  not  the  real  causes  of  the  dispute  with  the 
king.  The  king  was  willing  to  leave  the  Constitutions  to 
be  modified  by  the  pope.  The  archbishop's  contest,  lying 
concealed  in  his  favorite  phrases,  "  saving  my  order,"  "  sav- 
ing the  honor  of  God,"  was  for  the  supremacy  of  the  Church 
over  the  Crown ;  for  the  degradation  of  the  civil  power  into 
the  position  of  delegate  of  the  pope  and  bishops.  All 
authority  was  derived  from  God.  The  clergy  were  the  di- 
rect ministers  of  God.  Therefore  all  authority  was  derived 
from  God  through  them.  However  well  the  assumption 
might  appear  in  theory,  it  would  not  work  in  practice,  and 
John  of  Salisbury  was  right  in  concluding  that  the  pope 
would  never  sanction  an  assumption  which,  broadly  stated 
and  really  acted  on,  would  shake  the  fabric  of  the  Church 
throughout  Europe.  Alexander  was  dreaming  of  peace 
when  the  news  reached  him  of  the  excommunications  at  Ve- 
zelay.  The  news  that  Chief  Justice  de  Luci  had  hanged 
500  felonious  clerks  in  England  would  have  caused  him  less 
annoyance.  Henry's  envoys  brought  with  them  the  bishops' 
appeal,  and  renewed  the  demand  for  cardinal  legates  to  be 
sent  to  end  the  quarrel.  This  time  the  pope  decided  that 
the  legates  should  go,  carrying  with  them  powers  to  take  off 
Becket's  censures.  He  prohibited  Becket  himself  from 
pursuing  his  threats  further  till  the  cardinals'  arrival.  To 
Henry  he  sent  a  private  letter  —  which,  however,  he  per- 
mitted him  to  show  if  circumstances  made  it  necessary  — 
declaring  beforehand  that  any  sentences  which  the  arch- 


Thomas  Becket. 


65 


bishop  might  issue  against  himself  or  his  subjects  should  be 
void.-^ 

The  humiliation  was  terrible  ;  Becket's  victims  were  free, 
and  even  rewarded.  John  of  Oxford  came  back  from  Rome 
with  the  Deanery  of  Salisbury.  Worst  of  all,  the  cardinals 
were  coming,  and  those  the  most  dreaded  of  the  whole 
body,  Cardinal  Otho  and  Cardinal  William  of  Pavia.  One 
of  them,  said  John  of  Salisbury,  was  light  and  uncertain,  the 
other  crafty  and  false,  and  both  made  up  of  avarice.  These 
were  the  ministers  of  the  Holy  See,  for  whose  pretensions 
Becket  was  fiffhtino^.  This  was  his  estimate  of  them  when 
they  were  to  try  his  own  cause.  His  letters  at  this  moment 
were  filled  with  despair.  "  Ridicule  has  fallen  on  me,"  he 
said,  ''and  shame  on  the  pope.  I  am  to  be  obeyed  no 
longer.  I  am  betrayed  and  given  to  destruction.  My  de- 
position is  a  settled  thing.  Of  this,  at  least,  let  the  pope 
assure  himself :  never  will  I  accept  the  Cardinal  of  Pavia  for 
my  judge.  When  they  are  rid  of  me,  I  hear  he  is  to  be 
my  successor  at  Canterbury."^ 

Becket,  however,  was  not  the  man  to  leave  the  field  while 
life  was  in  him.  There  was  still  hope,  for  war  had  broken 
out  at  last,  and  Henry  and  Lewis  were  killing  and  burning 
in  each  other's  territories.  If  not  the  instigator,  Becket  was 
the  occasion,  and  Lewis,  for  his  own  interests,  would  still  be 
forced  to  stand  by  him.  He  was  intensely  superstitious. 
His  cause,  he  was  convinced,  was  God's  cause.  Hitherto 
God  had  allowed  him  to  fail  on  account  of  his  own  deficien- 
cies, and  the  deficiencies  required  to  be  amended.  Like 
certain  persons  who  cut  themselves  with  knives  and  lancets, 
he  determined  now  to  mortify  his  flesh  in  earnest.  When 
settled  in  his  new  life  at  Sens,  he  rose  at  daybreak,  prayed 
in  his  oratory,  said  mass,  and  prayed  and  wept  again.  Five 
times  each  day  and  night  his  chaplain  flogged  him.  His 
food  was  bread  and  water,  his  bed  the  floor.    A  hair  shirt 

1  The  Pope  to  Henry,  December  20,  1166. 

2  Becket's  Letters,  Giles,  vol.  ii.  p.  60. 

5 


66 


Life  and  Times  of 


was  not  enough  without  hair  drawers  which  reached  his 
knees,  and  both  were  worn  till  they  swarmed  with  vermin.^ 
The  cardinals  approached,  and  the  prospect  grew  hourly 
blacker.  The  pope  rebuked  Lewis  for  the  war.  The  op- 
portunity of  the  cardinals'  presence  was  to  be  used  for  res- 
toration of  peace.  Poor  as  Becket  was,  he  could  not  ap- 
proach these  holy  beings  on  their  accessible  side.  "The 
Cardinal  of  Pavia,"  said  John  of  Salisbury,  "thinks  only  of 
the  king's  money,  and  has  no  fear  of  God  in  him.  Cardinal 
Otho  is  better :  Romanus  tamen  et  cardinalis  (but  he  is  a 
Roman  and  a  cardinal).  If  we  submit  our  cause  to  them, 
we  lose  it  to  a  certainty.  If  we  refuse  we  offend  the  King 
of  France."  The  Cardinal  of  Pavia  wrote  to  announce  to 
Becket  his  arrival  in  France  and  the  purpose  of  his  mission. 
Becket  replied  with  a  violent  letter,  of  which  he  sent  a  copy 
to  John  of  Salisbury,  but  dispatched  it  before  his  friend 
could  stop  him.  John  of  Salisbury  thought  that  the  arch- 
bishop had  lost  his  senses.  "  Compare  the  cardinal's  letter 
and  your  answer  to  it,"  he  said.  "  What  had  the  cardinal 
done  that  you  should  tell  him  he  was  giving  you  poison  ? 
You  have  no  right  to  insult  a  cardinal  and  the  pope's  legate 
on  his  first  communication  with  you.  Were  he  to  send 
your  letter  to  Rome,  you  might  be  charged  with  contu- 
macy. He  tells  you  he  is  come  to  close  the  dispute  to  the 
honor  of  God  and  the  Church.  What  poison  is  there  in 
this  ?  He  is  not  to  blame  because  he  cautions  you  not  to 
provoke  the  king  further.  Your  best  friends  have  often 
given  you  the  same  advice." 

With  great  difficulty  Becket  was  brought  to  consent  to 

1  Myths  gathered  about  the  state  of  these  garments.  One  day,  we  are 
told,  he  was  dining  with  the  Queen  of  France.  She  observed  that  his 
sleeves  were  fastened  unusually  ti^^htly  at  the  wrist,  and  that  something 
moved  inside  them.  He  tried  to  evade  her  curiosity,  for  the  moving 
things  were  maggots.  But  she  pressed  her  questions  till  he  was  obliged 
to  loosen  the  strings.  Pearls  of  choicest  size  and  color  rolled  upon  the 
table.  The  queen  wished  to  keep  one,  but  it  could  not  be.  The  pearls 
were  restored  to  the  sleeve,  and  became  maggots  as  before.  —  Materials^ 
vol.  ii.  p.  296. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


67 


see  the  cardinals.  They  came  to  him  at  Sens,  but  stayed 
for  a  short  time  only,  and  went  on  to  the  king  in  Nor- 
mandy. The  archbishop  gathered  no  comfort  from  his 
speech  with  them.  He  took  to  his  bell  and  candles  again, 
and  cursed  the  Bishop  of  London.  He  still  intended  to 
curse  the  king  and  declare  an  interdict.  He  wrote  to  a 
friend.  Cardinal  Hyacinth,  at  Rome,  to  say  that  he  would 
never  submit  to  the  arbitration  of  the  cardinal  legates,  and 
bidding  him  urge  the  pope  to  confirm  the  sentences  which 
he  was  about  to  pronounce.^  He  implored  the  pope  him- 
self to  recall  the  cardinals  and  unsheath  the  sword  of  Peter. 
To  his  entire  confusion,  he  learned  that  the  king  held  a 
letter  from  the  pope  declaring  that  his  curses  would  be  so 
much  wasted  breath. 

The  pope  tried  to  soothe  him.  Soft  words  cost  Alex- 
ander nothing  ;  and,  while  protecting  Henry  from  spiritual 
thunders,  he  assured  the  archbishop  himself  that  his  power 
should  not  be  taken  from  him.  Nor,  indeed,  had  the  vio- 
lence of  Becket's  agitation  any  real  occasion.  Alexander 
wished  to  frighten  him  into  submission,  but  had  no  inten- 
tion of  compromising  himself  by  an  authoritative  decision. 
Many  months  passed  away,  and  Becket  still  refused  to 
plead  before  the  cardinals.  At  length  they  let  out  that 
their  powers  extended  no  further  than  advice,  and  Becket, 
thus  satisfied,  consented  to  an  official  conference.  The  meet- 
ing was  held  near  Gisors,  on  the  frontiers  of  France  and 
Normandy,  on  the  18th  of  November,  1167.  The  arch- 
bishop came  attended  by  his  exiled  English  friends.  With 
the  cardinals  were  a  large  body  of  Norman  bishops  and 
abbots.  The  cardinals,  earnest  for  peace  if  they  could  bring 
their  refractory  patient  to  consent  to  it,  laid  before  him  the 
general  unfitness  of  the  quarrel.  They  accused  him  of  in- 
gratitude, of  want  of  loyalty  to  his  sovereign,  and,  among 
other  things,  of  having  instigated  the  war.^ 

1  Giles,  vol.  ii.  p.  86. 

2  "  Imponens  ei  inter  cjetera  quod  excitaverat  guerram  regis  Franco- 
rum." —  Materials,  vol.  i.  p.  66. 


68 


Life  and  Times  of 


The  last  charge  the  archbishop  sharply  denied,  and  Lewis 
afterwards  acquitted  him  also.  For  the  rest  he  said  that  the 
king  had  begun  by  attacking  the  Church.  He  was  willing 
to  consent  to  any  reasonable  terms  of  arrangement,  with 
security  for  God's  honor,  proper  respect  for  himself,  and 
the  restoration  of  his  estates.  They  asked  if  he  would  recog- 
nize the  Constitutions  ;  he  said  that  no  such  engagement  had 
been  required  of  his  predecessors,  and  ought  not  to  be  re- 
quired of  him.  "  The  book  of  abominations,"  as  he  called 
the  Constitutions,  was  produced  and  read,  and  he  challenged 
the  cardinals  to  affirm  that  Christian  men  should  obey  such 
laws. 

Henry  was  prepared  to  accept  the  smallest  concession  ; 
nothing  need  be  said  about  the  Constitutions  if  Becket 
would  go  back  to  Canterbury,  resume  his  duties,  and  give 
a  general  promise  to  be  quiet.  The  archbishop  answered 
that  there  was  a  proverb  in  England  that  silence  gave  con- 
sent. The  question  had  been  raised,  and  could  not  now  be 
passed  over.  The  cardinals  asked  if  he  would  accept  their 
judgment  on  the  whole  cause.  He  said  that  he  would  go 
into  court  before  them  or  any  one  whom  the  pope  might 
appoint,  as  soon  as  his  property  was  restored  to  him.  In 
his  present  poverty  he  could  not  encounter  the  exi^ense  of 
a  lawsuit. 

Curious  satire  on  Becket's  whole  contention,  none  the 
less  so  that  he  was  himself  unconscious  of  the  absurdity ! 
He  withdrew  from  the  conference,  believing  that  he  had 
gained  a  victory,  and  he  again  began  to  meditate  drawing 
his  spiritual  sword.  Messengers  on  all  sides  again  flew  off 
to  Eome,  from  the  king  and  English  bishops,  from  the  car- 
dinals, from  Becket  himself.  The  king  and  bishops  placed 
themselves  under  the  pope's  protection  should  the  arch- 
bishop begin  his  curses.  The  Constitutions  were  once  more 
placed  at  the  pope's  discretion  to  modify  at  his  pleasure. 
The  cardinals  wrote  charging  Becket  with  being  the  sole 
cause  of  the  continuance  of  the  quarrel,  and,  in  spite  of  his 


Thomas  Becket. 


69 


denials,  persisting  in  accusing  him  of  having  caused  the  war. 
Becket  prayed  again  for  the  cardinals'  recall,  and  for  the 
pope's  sanction  of  more  vigorous  action. 

He  had  not  yet  done  with  the  cardinals  ;  they  knew  him, 
and  they  knew  his  restless  humor.  Pending  fresh  resolu- 
tions from  Rome,  they  suspended  him,  and  left  him  inca- 
pable either  of  excommunicating  or  exercising  any  other 
function  of  spiritual  authority  whatsoever.  Once  more  he 
was  plunged  into  despair. 

Through  those  legates,  he  cried  in  his  anguish  to  the 
pope,  "  We  are  made  a  derision  to  those  about  us.  My 
lord,  have  pity  on  me.  You  are  my  refuge.  I  can  scarcely 
breathe  for  anguish.  My  harp  is  turned  to  mourning,  and 
my  joy  to  sadness.    The  last  error  is  worse  than  the  first.'* 

The  pope  seemed  deaf  to  his  lamentations.  The  suspen- 
sion was  not  removed.  Plans  were  formed  for  his  transla- 
tion from  Canterbury  to  some  other  preferment.  He  said 
he  would  rather  be  killed.  The  pope  wrote  so  graciously 
to  Henry  that  the  king  said  he  for  the  first  time  felt  that 
he  was  sovereign  in  his  own  realm.  John  of  Salisbury's 
mournful  conviction  was  that  the  game  was  at  last  played 
out.  "  We  know  those  Romans,"  he  sighed  :  "  qui  munere 
potentior  est,  potentior  est  jure.  The  antipope  could  not 
have  done  more  for  the  king  than  they  have  done.  It  will 
be  written  in  the  annals  of  the  Holy  See  that  the  herald  of 
truth,  the  champion  of  liberty,  the  preacher  of  the  law  of 
the  Lord,  has  been  deprived  and  treated  as  a  criminal  at 
the  threats  of  an  English  prince." 

It  is  hard  to  say  what  influence  again  turned  the  scale. 
Perhaps  Alexander  was  encouraged  by  the  failures  of  Bar- 
barossa  in  Italy.  Perhaps  Henry  had  been  too  triumphant, 
and  had  irritated  the  pope  and  cardinals  by  producing  their 
letters,  and  speaking  too  frankly  of  the  influences  by  which 
the  holy  men  had  been  bound  to  his  side.^  In  accepting 
Henry's  money  they  had  not  bargained  for  exposure.  They 
^  John  of  Salisburj',  Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  144,  ed.  Giles 


70 


Life  and  Times  of 


were  ashamed  aud  sore,  and  Becket  grew  again  into  favor. 
The  pope  at  the  end  of  1168  gave  him  back  his  powers, 
permitting  him  to  excommunicate  even  Henry  himself  un- 
less he  repented  before  the  ensuing  Easter.  The  legates 
were  recalled  as  Becket  desired.  Cardinal  Otho  recom- 
mended the  king  to  make  his  peace  on  the  best  terms  which 
he  could  get.  John  of  Salisbury,  less  confident,  but  with 
amused  contempt  of  the  chameleonlike  Alexander,  advised 
Henry,  through  the  Bishop  of  Poitiers,  to  treat  with  the 
archbishop  immediately,  nec  mediante  Romano  episcopo,  nec 
rege  Francice  nec  opera  cardinalium,  without  help  either  of 
pope,  of  French  king  or  cardinals.  Since  Becket  could  not 
be  frightened,  Alexander  was  perhaps  trying  what  could  be 
done  with  Henry  ;  but  he  was  as  eager  as  any  one  for  an 
end  of  some  kind  to  a  business  which  was  now  adding  dis- 
grace and  scandal  to  its  other  mischiefs.  Peace  was  ar- 
ranged at  last  between  Lewis  and  Henry.  The  English 
king  gave  up  a  point  for  which  he  had  long  contended,  and 
consented  to  do  homage  for  Normandy  and  Anjou.  The 
day  after  Epiphany,  January  7,  1169,  the  two  princes  met 
at  Montmirail,  between  Chartres  and  Le  Mans,  attended  by 
their  peers  and  prelates. 

In  the  general  pacification  the  central  disturber  was,  if 
possible,  to  be  included.  The  pope  had  sent  commissioners, 
as  we  should  call  them —  Simon,  prior  of  Montdieu,  Engel- 
bert,  prior  of  Val  St.  Pierre,  and  Bernard  de  Corilo  —  to 
advise  and,  if  possible,  guide  Becket  into  wiser  courses. 
The  political  ceremonies  were  accomplished,  Lewis  and 
Henr}^  were  reconciled  amidst  general  satisfaction  and  en- 
thusiasm. Becket  was  then  introduced,  led  in  by  the 
Archbishop  of  Sens,  the  son  of  the  aged  Theobald,  Count  of 
Blois.  Henry  and  he  had  not  met  since  the  Northampton 
council.  He  threw  himself  in  apparent  humility  at  the 
king's  feet.  "  My  lord,"  he  said,  I  ask  you  to  forgive  me. 
I  place  myself  in  God's  hands  and  in  yours."  ^    At  a  pre- 

1  '*  Miserere  mei,  domine,  quia  pouo  me  in  Deo  et  vobis  ad  honorem  Dei 
et  vestrum." 


Thomas  Bechet. 


71 


liminary  meeting  the  pope's  envoys  and  the  French  clergy 
had  urged  him  to  submit  without  conditions.  He  had  in- 
sisted on  his  usual  reservation,  but  they  had  objected  to 
saving  clauses.  He  seemed  now  inclined  really  to  yield,  so 
Herbert  de  Bosham  says,  and  Herbert  whispered  to  him  to 
stand  firm. 

"  My  lord  king,"  said  Henry,  after  Becket  had  made  his 
general  submission,  "  and  you  my  lords  and  prelates,  what  I 
require  of  the  archbishop  is  no  more  than  that  he  will  ob- 
serve the  laws  which  have  been  observed  by  his  predeces- 
sors. I  ask  him  now  to  give  me  that  promise."  Becket  no 
longer  answered  with  the  reservation  of  his  order :  he 
changed  the  phrase.  He  promised  obedience,  saving  the 
honor  of  God. 

"  You  wish,"  replied  Henry,  powerfully  disappointed  and 
displeased,  "  to  be  king  in  my  place.  This  man,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  Lewis,  "  deserted  his  Church  of  his  own 
will,  and  he  tells  you  and  all  men  that  his  cause  is  the  cause 
of  the  Church.  He  has  governed  his  Church  with  as  much 
freedom  as  those  who  have  gone  before  him,  but  now  he 
stands  on  God's  honor  to  oppose  me  wherever  he  pleases, 
as  if  I  cared  for  God's  honor  less  than  he.  I  make  this 
proposal.  Many  kings  have  ruled  in  England  before  me, 
some  less,  some  greater  than  I  am ;  many  holy  men  have 
been  Archbishops  of  Canterbury  before  him.  Let  him  be- 
have to  me  as  the  most  sainted  of  his  predecessors  behaved 
to  the  least  worthy  of  mine,  and  I  am  content." 

The  king's  demand  seemed  just  and  moderate  to  all  pres- 
ent.^ The  archbishop  hesitated.  Lewis  asked  him  if  he 
aspired  to  be  greater  than  acknowledged  saints.  His  pred- 
ecessors, he  said,  had  extirpated  some  abuses  but  not  all. 
There  was  work  which  remained  to  be  done.  He  was 
stopped  by  a  general  outcry  that  the  king  had  yielded 
enough  ;  the  saving  clause  must  be  dropped.  At  once,  at 
the  tone  of  command,  Becket's  spirit  rose.  Priests  and 
1  "  Rem  justam  et  modestara  visus  est  omnibus  postulare." 


72 


Life  and  Times  of 


bishops,  he  answered  defiantly,  were  not  to  submit  to  men  of 
this  world  save  with  reservations ;  he  for  one  would  not  do 
it. 

The  meeting  broke  .up  in  confusion.  A  French  noble 
said  that  the  archbishop  was  abusing  their  hospitality,  and 
did  not  deserve  any  longer  protection.  Henry  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  sadly  away.  The  pope's  agents  followed 
him,  wringing  their  hands  and  begging  for  some  slight  ad- 
ditional concession.  The  king  told  them  that  they  must 
address  themselves  to  the  archbishop,  Let  the  archbishop 
bind  himself  to  obey  the  laws.  If  the  laws  were  amiss, 
they  should  be  modified  by  the  pope's  wishes.  In  no 
country  in  the  world,  he  said,  had  the  clergy  so  much  liberty 
as  in  England,  and  in  no  country  were  there  greater  villains 
among  them.  For  the  sake  of  peace  he  did  not  insist  on 
terms  precisely  defined.  The  archbishop  was  required  to 
do  nothing  beyond  what  had  been  done  by  Anselm. 

Becket,  however,  was  again  immovable  as  stone.  Lewis, 
after  a  brief  coldness,  took  him  back  into  favor.  His  power 
of  cursing  had  been  restored  to  him.  The  doubt  was  only 
whether  the  pope  had  recalled  the  safeguards  which  he  had 
given  to  the  king.  The  pope's  agents,  on  the  failure  of  the 
conference,  gave  Henry  a  second  letter,  in  which  Alexander 
told  him  that,  unless  peace  was  made,  he  could  not  restrain 
the  archbishop  longer.  Again  representatives  of  the  vari- 
ous parties  hurried  off  to  Rome,  Becket  insisting  that  if  the 
pope  would  only  be  firm  the  king  would  yield,  Henry  em- 
barrassing the  pope  more  completely  than  threats  of  schism 
could  have  done  by  placing  the  Constitutions  unreservedly 
in  his  hands,  and  binding  himself  to  adopt  any  change 
which  the  pope  might  suggest.  Becket,  feverish  and  impa- 
tient, would  not  wait  for  the  pope's  decision,  and  preferred 
to  force  his  hand  by  action.  He  summoned  the  Bishops  of 
London  and  Salisbury  to  appear  before  him.  They  ap- 
pealed to  Rome,  but  their  appeal  was  disregarded.  Appeals, 
as  Becket  characteristically  said,  were  not  allowed  in  order 


Thomas  BecheL 


73 


to  shield  the  guilty,  but  to  protect  the  innocent.  On  Palm. 
Sunday,  at  Clair vaux,  he  took  once  more  to  his  bell  and 
candles.  He  excommunicated  the  two  bishops  and  every 
one  who  had  been  concerned  with  his  property  —  the  Earl 
of  Norfolk,  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc,  whom  he  peculiarly  hated, 
Robert  de  Broc,  and  various  other  persons.  The  chief 
justice  he  threatened.  The  king  he  still  left  unmentioned, 
for  fear  of  provoking  the  pope  too  far. 

Harassed  on  both  sides,  knowing  perfectly  well  on  which 
*  side  good  sense  and  justice  lay,  yet  not  daring  to  declare 
Becket  wrong,  and  accept  what,  after  all  that  had  passed, 
would  be  construed  into  a  defeat  of  the  Church,  the  unfort- 
unate Alexander  drifted  on  as  he  best  could,  writing  letters 
in  one  sense  one  day  and  contradicting  them  the  next.  On 
the  surface  he  seemed  hopelessly  false.  The  falsehood  was 
no  more  than  weakness,  a  specious  anxiety  to  please  the 
king  without  offending  the  archbishop,  and  trusting  to  time 
and  weariness  to  bring  about  an  end.  There  is  no  occasion 
to  follow  the  details  of  his  duplicities.  Two  legates  were 
again  sent  —  not  cardinals  this  time,  but  ecclesiastical  law- 
yers, Gratian  and  Vivian — bound  by  oath  this  time  to 
cause  no  scandal  by  accepting  bribes.  As  usual,  the  choice 
was  impartial ;  Gratian  for  Becket,  Vivian  for  the  king. 
So  long  as  his  excommunications  were  allowed  to  stand, 
Becket  cared  little  who  might  come.  He  added  the  chief 
justice  to  the  list  of  the  accursed,  as  he  had  threatened  to  do. 
He  wrote  to  the  Bishop  of  Ostia  that  the  king's  disposition 
could  only  be  amended  by  punishment.  The  serpent  head 
of  the  iniquit}''  must  now  be  bruised,  and  he  bade  the  bishop 
impress  the  necessity  of  it  upon  the  pope.  Gratian  was 
taken  into  Becket's  confidence.  Vivian  he  treated  coldly 
and  contemptuously.  According  to  Herbert  and  Becket's 
friends,  Gratian  reported  that  the  king  was  shifty  and  false, 
and  that  his  object  was  to  betray  the  Church  and  the  arch- 
bishop. Henry  himself  declared  that  he  assented  to  all  that 
they  proposed  to  him,  and  Diceto  says  that  the  legates  were 


74 


Life  and  Times  of 


on  the  point  of  giving  judgment  in  Henry's  favor  when  the 
Archbishop  of  Sens  interposed  and  forbade  them.  In  the 
confusion  of  statement  the  actions  of  either  party  alone  can 
be  usefully  attended  to,  and  behind  the  acts  of  all,  or  at 
least  of  the  pope,  there  was  the  usual  ambiguity.  Alexander 
threatened  the  kmg.  He  agam  empowered  Becket  to  use 
whatever  power  he  possessed  to  bring  him  to  submission, 
and  he  promised  to  confirm  his  sentences.-^  As  certainly  he 
had  secret  conferences  at  Rome  with  Henry's  envoys,  and 
promised,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  archbishop  should  not 
be  allowed  to  hurt  him.  Becket,  furious  and  uncontrollable, 
called  the  Bishop  of  London  a  parricide,  an  infidel,  a  Go- 
liath, a  son  of  Belial ;  he  charged  the  Bishop  of  Hereford 
to  see  that  the  sentence  against  Foliot  and  his  brother  of 
Salisbury  should  be  observed  in  England.  Henry,  on  the 
other  hand,  assured  Foliot  of  protection,  and  sent  him  to 
Rome  with  letters  from  himself  to  pursue  his  appeal  and 
receive  absolution  from  the  pope  himself.  The  Count  of 
Flanders  interposed,  the  Count  of  Mayence  interposed,  but 
without  eflTect.  At  length  on  the  18th  of  November,  the 
anniversary  of  the  conference  with  the  cardinals  at  Gisors, 
Henry  and  Lewis  met  again  at  Montmartre  outside  Paris, 
Becket  and  his  friends  being  in  attendance  in  an  adjoining 
chapel.  Gratian  had  returned  to  Rome.  Vivian  was  pres- 
ent, and  pressed  Lewis  to  bring  the  archbishop  to  reason. 
Lewis  really  exerted  himself,  and  not  entirely  unsuccess- 
fully. Henry  was  even  more  moderate  than  before.  The 
Constitutions,  by  the  confession  of  Becket's  biographer, 
Herbert,  who  was  with  him  on  the  spot,  were  practically 
abandoned.  Henry's  only  condition  was  that  the  archbishop 
should  not  usurp  the  functions  of  the  civil  power;  he,  on 
his  part,  undertaking  not  to  strain  the  prerogative.  Becket 
dropped  his  saving  clause,  and  consented  to  make  the  prom- 
ise required  of  him,  if  the  king  would  restore  his  estates, 
and  give  him  compensation  for  the  arrear  rents,  which  he 
1  "  Quod  ea  quae  statuerit  non  mutabuntur.'*  ^ 


Thomas  Bechet, 


75 


estimated  at  20,000^.  Lewis  said  that  money  ought  not  to 
be  an  obstacle  to  peace.  It  was  unworthy  of  the  archbishop 
to  raise  so  poor  a  difficulty.  But  here,  too,  Henry  gave 
way.  An  impartial  estimate  should  be  made,  and  Becket 
was  to  be  repaid. 

But  now,  no  more  than  before,  had  the  archbishop  any 
real  intention  of  submitting.  His  only  fear  was  of  offend- 
ing Lewis.  The  Archbishop  of  Sens  had  gone  to  Rome  to 
persuade  the  pope  to  give  him  legatine  powers  over  Hen- 
ry's French  dominions.  The  censures  of  the  Church  might 
be  resisted  in  England.  If  Normandy,  Anjou,  and  Aqui- 
taine  were  laid  under  interdict,  these  two  spiritual  conspir- 
ators had  concluded  that  the  king  would  be  forced  to  sur- 
render. Becket  was  daily  expecting  a  favorable  answer, 
and  meanwhile  was  protracting  the  time.  He  demanded 
guarantees.  He  did  not  suspect  the  king,  he  said,  but  he 
suspected  his  courtiers.  John  of  Salisbury  had  cautioned 
him,  and  the  pope  had  cautioned  him,  against  so  indecent  a 
requisition.  Lewis  said  it  was  unreasonable.  Becket  said 
then  that  he  must  have  the  kiss  of  peace  as  a  sign  that  the 
king  was  really  reconciled  to  him.  He  probably  knew  that 
the  kiss  would  and  must  be  withheld  from  him  until  he  had 
given  proofs  that  he  meant  in  earnest  to  carry  out  his  en- 
gagements. The  king  said  coldly  that  he  did  not  mean,  and 
had  never  meant,  to  injure  the  Church.  He  was  willing  to 
leave  the  whole  question  between  himself  and  the  archbishop 
either  to  the  peers  and  prelates  of  France  or  to  the  French 
universities.  More  he  could  not  do.  The  conference  at 
Montmartre  ended,  as  Becket  meant  that  it  should  end,  in 
nothing. 

He  sent  off  dispatches  to  the  Archbishop  of  Sens  and  to 
his  Roman  agents,  entirely  well  satisfied  with  himself,  and 
bidding  them  tell  the  pope  that  Normandy  had  only  to  be 
laid  under  interdict,  and  that  the  field  was  won.  Once 
more  he  had  painfully  to  discover  that  he  had  been  building 
on  a  quicksand.    Instead  of  the  interdict,  the  pope  sent 


76 


Life  and  Times  of 


orders  to  the  Archbisliop  of  Rouen  and  the  Bishop  of 
Nevers  to  absolve  a  second  time  the  victims  whom  he  had 
excommunicated  at  Clairvaux.  Instead  of  encouragement 
to  go  on  and  smite  the  king  with  the  spiritual  sword,  he 
received  a  distinct  command  to  abstain  for  another  interval. 
Last  of  all,  and  worst  of  all,  the  pope  informed  him  that  at 
the  king's  request,  for  certain  important  purposes,  he  had 
granted  a  commission,  as  legate  over  all  England,  to  his 
rival  and  enemy  the  Archbishop  of  York.  The  king's 
envoys  had  promised  that  the  commission  should  not  be 
handed  to  the  Archbishop  of  York  till  the  pope  had  been 
again  consulted.  But  the  deed  was  done.  The  letter  had 
been  signed  and  delivered.-^  The  hair  shirt  and  the  five 
daily  floggings  had  been  in  vain  then  !  Heaven  was  still 
inexorable.  The  archbishop  raved  like  a  madman.  Satan 
was  set  free  for  the  destruction  of  the  Church."  "  At  Rome 
it  was  always  the  same.  Barabbas  was  let  go,  and  Christ 
was  crucified."  "Come  what  might,  he  would  never  sub- 
mit, but  he  would  trouble  the  Roman  Church  no  more."  ^ 


1  Matthew  Paris,  Chronica  Majora,  pp.  249,  250. 

2  Becket  to  Cardinal  Albert.    Giles,  vol.  ii.  p.  251. 


Thomas  BecJcet. 


77 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

Becket  had  now  been  for  more  than  five  years  in  exile. 
He  had  fought  for  victory  with  a  tenacity  which  would 
have  done  him  credit  had  his  cause  been  less  preposterous. 
At  length  it  seemed  that  hope  was  finally  gone.  At  the 
supreme  moment  another  opportunity  was  thrust  into  his 
hands.  Henry's  health  was  uncertain ;  he  had  once  been 
dangerously  ill.  The  succession  to  the  English  crown  had 
not  yet  settled  into  fixed  routine.  Of  the  Conqueror's  sons 
William  had  been  preferred  to  Robert.  Stephen  sup- 
planted Matilda;  but  the  son  of  Stephen  was  set  aside  for 
Matilda's  son.  To  prevent  disputes  it  had  been  long  de- 
cided that  Prince  Henry  must  be  crowned  and  receive  the 
homage  of  the  barons  while  his  father  was  still  living. 

The  pope  in  person  had  been  invited  to  perform  the  cer- 
emony. The  pope  had  found  it  impossible  to  go,  and 
among  the  other  inconveniences  resulting  from  Becket's 
absence  the  indefinite  postponement  of  this  coronation  had 
not  been  the  lightest.  The  king  had  been  reluctant  to  in- 
vade the  acknowledged  privilege  of  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, and  put  it  off  from  year  to  year.  But  the  country 
was  growing  impatient.  The  archbishop's  exile  might  now 
be  indefinitely  protracted.  The  delay  was  growing  danger- 
ous, and  the  object  of  the  commission  for  which  the  king 
had  asked,  and  which  the  pope  had  granted  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  was  to  enable  the  Archbishop  of  York  to 
act  in  the  coronation  ceremony.  The  commission  in  its 
terms  was  all  that  Henry  could  desire  ;  the  pope  not  only 
permitted  the  Archbishop  of  York  to  ofiiciate,  but  enjoined 
him  to  do  it.    Promises  were  said  to  have  been  given  that 


78 


Life  and  Times  of 


it  was  not  to  be  used  without  the  pope's  consent;  but  in 
such  a  labyrinth  of  lies  little  reliance  can  be  placed  on  state- 
ments unconfirmed  by  writing.  The  pope  did  not  pretend 
that  he  had  exacted  from  the  English  envoys  any  written 
engagement.  He  had  himself  signed  a  paper  giving  the 
Archbishop  of  York  the  necessary  powers,  and  this  paper 
was  in  the  king's  hands.^  The  coronation  was  the  symbol 
of  the  struggle  in  which  Becket  was  now  engaged.  The 
sovereign,  according  to  his  theory,  was  the  delegate  of  the 
Church.  In  receiving  the  crown  from  the  hands  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  sovereign  formally  admitted 
his  dependent  position ;  and  so  long  as  it  could  be  main- 
tained that  the  coronation  would  not  hold  unless  it  was  per- 
formed either  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  or  by  the 
pope  himself,  the  sovereign's  subject  state  was  a  practical 
reality. 

Becket  saw  the  favorable  moment,  and  instantly  snatched 
at  it.  He  had  many  powerful  friends  in  England  among 
the  peers  and  knights.  The  lay  peers,  he  says  in  his  let- 
ters, had  always  been  truer  to  him  than  the  clergy,  they 
on  their  part  having  their  own  differences  with  the  crown. 
He  had  ascertained  that  the  coronation  could  not  be  post- 
poned ;  and  if  he  could  make  the  validity  of  it  to  depend 
on  his  own  presence,  he  might  redeem  his  past  mortifica- 
tions, and  bring  Henry  to  his  feet  after  all.  He  knew  Al- 
exander's nature  and  set  his  agents  to  work  upon  him.  He 
told  them  to  say  that  if  the  coronation  was  accomplished 
without  his  own  presence  the  power  of  the  Roman  see  in 
England  was  gone ;  and  thus,  when  all  seemed  lost,  he 
gained  the  feeble  and  uncertain  pope  to  his  side  once  more. 
In  keeping  with  his  conduct  throughout  the  whole  Becket 
difficulty,  Alexander  did  not  revoke  his  previous  letter.  He 
left  it  standing  as  something  to  appeal  to,  as  an  evidence  of 
his  goodwill  to  Henry.    But  he  issued  another  injunction  to 

1  Giles,  vol.  ii.  pp.  2-57,  258.  The  commission  quoted  by  Giles  is  evi- 
dently the  same  as  that  to  which  the  pope  referred  in  his  letter  to  Becket 


Thomas  BecTcet, 


79 


the  Archbishop  of  York,  strictly  forbidding  him  to  officiate  ; 
and  he  inclosed  the  injunction  to  Becket  to  be  used  by  him 
in  whatever  manner  he  might  think  fit.  The  Archbishop 
of  York  never  received  this  letter.  It  was  given,  we  are 
told,  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester,  who  was  in  Normandy,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  returning  to  England.  The  Bishop  of 
Worcester  was  detained,  and  it  did  not  reach  its  destination. 
So  runs  the  story  ;  but  the  parts  will  not  fit  one  another, 
and  there  is  a  mystery  left  unexplained.-^  This  only  is 
certain,  that  the  inhibition  was  not  served  on  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York.  Rumor  may  have  reached  England  that 
such  a  thing  had  been  issued ;  but  the  commission  which  had 
been  formerly  granted  remained  legally  unrevoked,  and  on 
the  18th  of  June  Prince  Henry  was  crowned  at  West- 
minster in  his  father's  presence  by  the  Archbishop  of  York 
and  the  Bishops  of  London,  Durham,  Rochester,  and  Salis- 
bury. 

It  was  easy  now  for  Becket  to  represent  to  Alexander 
that  the  English  bishops  had  rewarded  his  kindness  to 
them  by  defying  his  positive  injunctions.  To  the  super- 
stitious English  barons  the  existence  of  the  inhibition  threw 
a  doubt  on  the  legality  of  the  coronation,  and  as  men's 
minds  then  were,  and  with  the  wild  lawless  disposition  of 
such  lion  cubs  as  the  Plantagenet  princes,  a  tainted  title 
would  too  surely  mean  civil  war.  By  ill-fortune  offence 
was  given  at  the  same  time  to  Lewis,  who  considered  that 
his  daughter  should  have  been  crowned  with  her  husband, 
and  he  resented  what  he  chose  to  regard  as  a  wilful  slight. 

1  It  would  appear  from  a  letter  of  John  of  Salisbury  that  the  prohibi- 
tory letter  had  been  purposely  withheld  by  Becket,  who  was  allowing 
himself  to  be  guided  by  some  idle  vaticinia  or  prophecies.  John  of  Salis- 
bury writes  to  him  (Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  236):  "Memineritis  quantum  peri- 
culum  et  infortunium  ad  see  traxerit  mora  porrigendi  ....  prohibito- 

rias  Eboracensi  archiepiscopo  et  episcopis  transmarinis  Subtilitatem 

vestram  vaticinia  quae  non  erant  a  Spiritu  deluserunt  Vaticiniis 

ergo  renunciemus  in  posterum,  quia  nos  in  hac  parte  gravius  infortunia 
perculerunt." 


80 


Life  and  Times  of 


The  pope  was  told  that  the  coronation  oath  had  been  al- 
tered, that  the  liberties  of  the  Church  had  been  omitted, 
and  that  the  young  king  had  been  sworn  to  maintain  the 
Constitutions  of  Clarendon.  Becket  made  the  most  of  his 
opportunity  ;  mistakes,  exaggerations,  wilful  lies,  and  cul- 
pable credulity  did  their  work  effectively ;  Lewis  went  to 
war  again,  and  invaded  Normandy ;  the  pope,  believing 
that  he  had  been  tricked  and  insulted,  commanded  Henry 
to  make  peace  with  the  archbishop  under  threat  of  instant 
personal  excommunication  of  himself  and  an  interdict  over 
his  whole  dominions.  Henry  flew  back  from  England  to 
Normandy.  In  a  month  he  dispelled  the  illusions  of  Lewis, 
and  restored  peace.  It  was  less  easy  to  calm  Alexander, 
who  regard6d  himself,  if  not  openly  defied,  yet  as  betrayed 
by  the  breach  of  the  promise  that  the  commission  to  the 
Archbishop  of  York  should  not  be  used  without  a  fresh 
permission  from  himself.  Henry  knew  that  a  sentence  of 
excommunication  against  himself,  and  an  interdict  over  his 
French  dominions,  was  seriously  possible.  The  risk  was 
too  great  to  be  incurred  without  another  effort  to  compose 
the  weary  quarrel.  The  archbishop,  too,  on  his  side  had 
been  taught  by  often  repeated  experience  that  the  pope 
was  a  broken  reed.  Many  times  the  battle  seemed  to  have 
been  won,  and  the  pope's  weakness  or  ill-will  had  snatched 
the  victory  from  him.  He  had  left  England  because  he 
thought  the  continent  a  more  promising  field  of  battle  for 
him.  He  began  to  think  that  final  success,  if  he  was  ever 
to  obtain  it,  would  only  be  possible  to  him  in  his  own  see, 
among  his  own  people,  surrounded  by  his  powerful  friends. 
He  too,  on  his  side,  was  ready  for  a  form  of  agreement 
which  would  allow  him  to  return  and  repossess  himself  of 
the  large  revenues  of  which  he  had  felt  the  want  so  terribly. 
More  than  once  he  and  Henry  met  and  separated  without  a 
conclusion.  At  length  at  Freteval  in  Vendome,  on  St. 
Mary  Magdalen's  day,  July  22,  an  interview  took  place  in 
the  presence  of  Lewis  and  a  vast  assemblage  of  prelates 


Thomas  BecTcet, 


81 


and  knights  and  nobles ;  where,  on  the  terms  which  had 
been  arranged  at  Montmartre,  the  king  and  the  archbishop 
consented  to  be  reconciled.  The  kiss  which  before  had 
been  the  difficulty  was  not  offered  by  Henry  and  was  not 
demanded  by  Becket ;  but  according  to  the  account  given 
by  Herbert,  who  describes  what  he  himself  witnessed,  and 
relates  what  Becket  told  him,  after  the  main  points  were 
settled,  the  king  and  the  archbishop  rode  apart  out  of  hear- 
ing of  every  one  but  themselves.  There  the  archbishop 
asked  the  king  whether  he  might  censure  the  bishops  who 
had  officiated  at  the  coronation.  The  king,  so  the  arch- 
bishop informed  his  friends,  gave  his  full  and  free  consent. 
The  archbishop  sprang  from  his  horse  in  gratitude  to  the 
king's  feet.  The  king  alighted  as  hastily,  and  held  the 
archbishop's  stirrup  as  he  remounted.  These  gestures  the 
spectators  saw  and  wondered  at,  unable,  as  Herbert  says, 
to  conjecture  what  was  passing  till  it  was  afterwards  ex- 
plained to  them. 

That  the  king  should  have  consented  as  absolutely  and 
unconditionally  as  Becket  said  that  he  did,  or  even  that  he 
should  have  consented  at  all  in  Becket's  sense  of  the  word, 
to  the  excommunication  of  persons  who  had  acted  by  his 
own  orders  and  under  a  supposed  authority  from  the  pope, 
is  so  unlikely  in  itself,  so  inconsistent  with  Henry's  conduct 
afterwards,  that  we  may  feel  assured  that  Henry's  account 
of  what  took  place  would,  if  we  knew  it,  have  been  singu- 
larly different.  But  we  are  met  with  a  further  difficulty. 
Herbert  says  positively  that  the  conversation  between 
Becket  and  the  king  was  private  between  themselves,  that 
no  one  heard  it  or  knew  the  subject  of  it  except  from 
Becket's  report.  Count  Theobald  of  Blois  asserted,  in  a 
letter  to  the  pope,  that  in  his  presence  {me  prcesente)  the 
archbishop  complained  of  the  conduct  of  the  English  prel- 
ates, and  that  the  king  empowered  him  to  pass  sentence  on 
them.  Yet  more  remarkably,  the  archbishop  afterwards  at 
Canterbury  insisted  to  Reginald  Fitzurse  that  the  king's 
6 


82 


Life  and  Times  of 


promises  to  him  had  been  given  in  the  audience  of  500 
peers,  knights,  and  prelates,  and  that  Sir  Reginald  him- 
self was  among  the  audience.  Fitzurse  denied  that  he  heard 
the  king  give  any  sanction  to  the  punishment  of  the  bish- 
ops. He  treated  Becket's  declaration  as  absurd  and  incred- 
ible on  the  face  of  it.  The  Count  of  Blois  may  have 
confounded  what  he  himself  heard  with  what  Becket  told 
him  afterwards,  or  he  may  have  referred  to  some  other 
occasion.  The  charge  against  the  king  rests  substantially 
on  Becket's  own  uncorrected  word ;  while,  on  the  other 
side,  are  the  internal  unlikelihood  of  the  permission  in  it- 
self and  the  inconsistency  of  Becket's  subsequent  action 
with  a  belief  that  he  had  the  king's  sanction  for  what  he 
intended  to  do.  Had  he  supposed  that  the  king  would  ap- 
prove, he  would  have  acted  openly  and  at  once.  Instead 
of  consulting  the  king,  he  had  no  sooner  left  the  Freteval 
conference  than  he  privately  obtained  from  the  pope  letters 
of  suspension  against  the  Archbishop  of  York  and  the 
Bishop  of  Durham,  and  letters  of  excommunication  against 
the  Bishops  of  London,  Salisbury,  and  Rochester ;  and 
while  he  permitted  Henry  to  believe  that  he  was  going 
home  to  govern  his  diocese  in  peace,^  he  had  instruments 
in  his  portfolio  which  were  to  explode  in  lightning  the  mo- 
ment that  he  set  foot  in  England,  and  convulse  the  country 
once  more. 

1  "  Archiepiscopus  pacem  mecum  fecit  ad  voluntatem  meam." 


Thomas  BecJcet, 


83 


CHAPTER  IX. 

By  the  terms  of  the  peace  of  Freteval,  the  archbishop 
was  to  be  restored  to  his  estates  and  dignity.  He  on  his 
part  had  given  assurances  of  his  intentions  with  which 
Henry  had  professed  himself  satisfied.  Private  communi- 
cations had  passed  between  him  and  the  king,  the  nature  of 
which  is  only  known  to  us  through  the  archbishop's  repre- 
sentations to  his  friends.  Tliat  the  reconciliation,  however, 
was  left  incomplete,  is  evident  both  from  Becket's  conduct 
and  from  Henry's.  The  king  had  made  the  return  of  his 
favor  conditional  on  Becket's  conduct.  Either  he  did  not 
trust  Becket's  promises,  or  the  promises  were  less  ample 
than  he  desired. 

Immediately  after  the  interview  the  king  became  danger- 
ously ill,  and  for  a  month  he  believed  that  he  was  dying. 
Becket  returned  to  Sens,  and  sent  messengers  to  England 
to  young  Henry  announcing  his  approaching  return,  and 
requesting  that  his  estates  should  be  made  over  at  once  to 
his  own  people.  The  messengers  were  instructed  privately 
to  communicate  with  his  English  friends,  and  ascertain  the 
state  of  public  feeling.  The  young  king  named  a  day  on 
which  the  trust  should  be  made  over  to  the  archbishop's 
officials,  and  advised  that  the  archbishop  should  remain  for  a 
while  on  the  continent,  and  endeavor  to  recover  his  father's 
confidence.  The  messengers  reported  that  he  had  many 
staunch  supporters,  the  Earl  of  Cornwall  among  them ;  but 
they  were  unanimously  of  opinion  that  it  would  be  unwise 
for  the  archbishop  to  reappear  at  Canterbury  so  long  as  the 
old  king's  distrust  continued.  The  peace  of  Freteval,  there- 
fore, was  obviously  understood  to  have  been  inconclusive  by 


84 


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all  parties.  The  inconclusiveness  was  made  still  more  ap- 
parent immediately  after. 

At  the  beginning  of  September,  Henry  had  partially  re- 
covered. The  archbishop  sent  John  of  Salisbury  and  Her- 
bert of  Bosham  to  him  to  complain  of  the  delay  with  the 
estates.  He  had  been  watched,  perhaps,  more  closely  than 
he  was  aware.  The  king  knew  nothing  as  yet  of  the  in- 
tended excommunication  of  the  bishops.  But  he  knew 
Becket's  character.  He  felt  it  more  than  probable  that 
mischief  was  meditated.  He  said  that  he  must  wait  to  see 
how  the  archbishop  conducted  himself. 

Passionate  as  usual,  the  archbishop  complained  to  the 
pope;  he  intimated  that  only  his  holiness's  orders  pre- 
vented him  from  revenging  his  ill-treatment.  Prudence, 
however,  told  him  that  if  he  was  to  make  an  effective  use 
of  the  excommunications  which  the  pope  had  trusted  to  him, 
he  must  for  the  present  restrain  himself.  Twice  again  he 
saw  the  king  at  Tours,  and  afterwards  at  Amboise.  Henry 
was  reserved,  but  not  unkind.  The  archbishop  had  pro- 
fessed a  wish  for  peace.  If  his  behavior  after  his  return 
to  England  proved  that  he  was  in  earnest  in  these  profes- 
sions—  if  he  remained  quietly  in  his  province,  and  made  no 
further  disturbances  —  the  king  said  that  he  was  prepared 
to  show  him  every  possible  kindness. 

The  king  needed  no  more  complete  justification  of  his 
suspicions  than  an  expression  which  Becket  used  in  relating 
this  conversation  to  his  friend  Herbert.  "  As  the  king  was 
speaking,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  of  the  words :  *  All  these 
things  will  I  give  thee  if  thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship 
me.'  "  It  is  evident  on  the  face  of  the  narrative  that  the 
king  never  gave  the  conscious  sanction  to  violent  measures 
against  the  bishops,  which  Becket  pretended  afterwards 
that  he  had  received.  In  answer  to  his  complaints  at 
Amboise,  Henry  may  have  told  him  that  the  rights  of  the 
see  of  Canterbury  should  be  assured,  and  that,  if  those 
rights  had  been  impaired,  satisfaction  should  be  made  to 


Thomas  Bechet. 


85 


him.  To  this  last  conference,  and  to  some  sucli  words  as 
these,  the  Count  of  Blois  may  have  referred  in  his  letter  to 
the  pope.  But  Becket  and  his  friends  put  a  construction 
upon  the  promises  which  none  knew  better  than  they  that 
Henry  did  not  intend.  It  is  as  certain  that  Becket's  own 
professions  were  no  less  equivocal  —  that  when  he  spoke  of 
peace  he  was  thinking  only  of  a  peace  of  which  he  was  to 
dictate  the  terms,  and  that  he  had  already  determined  to 
reopen  the  war  on  a  new  stage  on  the  instant  of  his  return 
to  his  cathedral. 

But  the  return  was  now  determined  on,  be  the  conse- 
quences what  they  might.  The  English  bishops  had  their 
friends  among  the  cardinals.  In  the  course  of  the  autumn 
it  became  known  in  England  that  the  archbishop  had  ap- 
plied for  censures  against  the  bishops,  and  that  the  pope 
had  granted  them.  They  advised  the  king  to  insist  that 
Becket  should  bind  himself  by  some  more  explicit  engage- 
ments before  he  should  be  allowed  to  land,  that  he  should 
be  examined  especially  as  to  whether  he  had  any  letters  of 
excommunication  from  Rome,  and  that  if  he  were  in  pos- 
session of  such  letters  he  should  surrender  them.  Henry 
preferred  to  trust  to  the  archbishop's  honor,  or  to  the 
watchfulness  of  the  wardens  of  the  ports.  He  was  weary 
of  the  struo^o-le.  Doubtless  he  had  his  miso;ivinojs,  as  the 
bishops  had ;  but  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the  experi- 
ment should  be  tried,  with,  on  his  part  at  least,  a  faithful 
discharge  of  his  own  enojao-ements. 

The  archbishop  had  gone  to  Rouen  in  November  to  set- 
tle accounts  with  creditors  who  had  advanced  him  money. 
He  had  meant  to  see  Henry  once  more,  but  Henry  wrote 
to  say  that  the  delay  of  his  return  had  led  to  disquieting 
rumors  which  ought  not  to  continue.  He  desired  the  arch- 
bishop to  go  back  to  Canterbury  at  once;  and,  that  he 
might  be  subjected  to  no  inconvenience  on  landing,  he  sent 
John  of  Oxford,  whose  person  was  well  known,  to  accom- 
pany and  protect  him.    John  of  Oxford's  instructions  were, 


86 


Life  and  Times  of 


after  seeing  Becket  safe  at  Canterbury,  to  go  on  to  the 
young  king  and  give  orders  for  the  immediate  restoration 
of  the  property  of  the  see. 

The  die  was  cast.  The  archbishop  resolved  to  go. 
There  was  abundant  disaffection  in  England.  In  the  spring 
of  this  very  year  the  king  had  been  obliged  to  suspend  the 
sheriffs  in  every  county,  and  ultimately  to  remove  many  of 
them,  for  extortion  and  oppression.^  The  clergy  were 
lukewarm  in  his  interests  ;  but  there  were  better  reasons 
for  relying  upon  the  nobles.  The  king  had  thrust  a  bridle 
in  their  mouths,  restraining  what  they  called  their  liberties, 
and  many  of  them,  as  was  afterwards  proved,  were  ready 
to  make  common  cause  with  the  Church  against  the  Crown. 
The  archbishop  was  perfectly  right  in  expecting  to  find 
among  the  laity  a  party  who  would  stand  by  him.  He 
went  <once  more  to  Sens  to  take  leave  of  his  entertainers. 
After  an  affectionate  parting  with  Lewis  and  the  Queen  of 
France,  retaining  still  his  old  taste  for  magnificence,  he 
rode  down  to  the  coast  with  an  escort  of  a  hundred  cavaliers, 
and  there  once  more,  separated  from  him  but  by  a  few  hours' 
sail,- lay  the  white  cliffs  of  England. 

It  was  thought  likely,  if  it  was  not  known  for  certain, 
that  Becket  would  bring  with  him  letters  from  the  pope, 
and  the  introduction  of  such  letters,  if  to  the  hurt  of  any 
English  subject,  was  against  the  law,  without  a  written 
license  from  the  king.  The  duty  of  the  wardens  of  the 
ports  was  to  search  the  persons  and  the  baggage  of  any  one 
whom  there  was  ground  for  suspecting,  and  on  reaching  the 
coast  Becket  learned  that  the  three  prelates  who  were  to  be 
excommunicated,  the  Sheriff  of  Kent,  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc, 
and  Sir  Reginald  de  Warenne,  one  of  the  council  of  the 
young  king,  were  waiting  for  him  at  Dover  to  ascertain 
whether  he  was  the  bearer  of  any  such  explosive  missile. 
The  future  martyr  was  not  select  in  his  language.  "  Arch- 
devils,"  "  priests  of  Baal,"  "  standard-bearers  of  the  Balaam- 
1  Benedict. 


Thomas  BecJcet. 


87 


ites,"  "children  of  perdition,"  were  the  common  phrases 
with  which  he  described  the  unfortunate  bishops  who  were 
thus  trying  to  escape  their  sentences.  To  outwit  their  vigi- 
lance, a  day  or  two  before  he  meant  to  sail,  he  sent  over  a 
boy  in  a  small  vessel  whose  insignificant  appearance  would 
attract  no  attention.  The  boy  or  nun  (for  there  is  reason 
to  suppose  that  the  bearer  was  a  woman  disguised)  pre- 
sented himself  suddenly  before  the  Archbishop  of  York  in 
St.  Peter's  Oratory  at  Dover,  placed  the  letter  of  suspension 
in  his  hands,  and  disappeared  before  he  had  time  to  learn  its 
contents.  In  the  same  hour,  and  by  the  same  instrument, 
the  still  more  terrible  letters  of  excommunication  were 
served  on  the  Bishops  of  London  and  Salisbury.  Their 
precautions  had  been  baffled.  The  shots  had  been  fired 
which  opened  the  new  campaign,  and  the  mark  had  been 
successfully  hit.  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc  searched  the  town 
with  a  drawn  sword  for  the  audacious  messenger,  but  the 
messenger  had  vanished. 

It  would  have  gone  ill  with  Becket  had  he  landed  in  the 
midst  of  the  storm  which  the  delivery  of  the  letters  instantly 
kindled.  The  ground  of  the  censures  was  the  coronation  of 
the  young  king.  To  excommunicate  the  bishops  who  had 
officiated  was  to  deny  the  young  king's  title  to  the  crown. 
The  archbishop  had  come  back  then,  it  seemed,  to  defy  the 
government  and  light  a  civil  war.  The  next  morning,  when 
he  and  his  friends  were  examining  the  vessel  in  which  they 
were  about  to  embark,  an  English  boat  ran  into  the  harbor. 
Some  one  leaped  on  shore,  and,  coming  straight  to  Herbert, 
told  him  that  if  the  archbishop  went  to  Dover  he  was  a  dead 
man  ;  the  excommunications  had  set  the  country  on  fire. 
A  rapid  council  was  held.  Several  of  the  priests  were 
frightened.  The  certain  displeasure  of  the  king  was  ad- 
mitted with  a  frankness  which  showed  how  little  Becket 
really  supposed  that  Henry  would  approve  what  he  had 
done.  Becket  asked  Herbert  for  advice.  Herbert,  always 
the  worst  adviser  that  he  could  have  consulted,  said  that 


88 


Life  and  Times  of 


tliey  must  advance  or  fall  into  disgrace.  Let  the  archbishop 
go  boldly  forward,  and  he  would  tread  the  dragon  under 
his  feet.  The  worst  that  could  befall  him  was  a  glorious 
martyrdom. 

Much  of  this  fine  language  may  have  been  an  after- 
thought. The  archbishop,  when  a  choice  of  conduct  lay 
before  him,  was  certain  to  choose  the  most  rash.  He  de- 
cided, however,  to  avoid  Dover,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
1st  of  December  he  sailed  up  the  river  to  Sandwich,  with 
his  cross  raised  conspicuously  above  the  figure-head  of  his 
ship.  Sandwich  was  his  own  town.  The  inhabitants  were 
lieges  of  the  see,  and  a  vast  and  delighted  crowd  was  gath- 
ered on  the  quay  to  receive  him.  The  change  of  destination 
was  known  at  Dover  Castle.  Sir  Reginald  de  Warenne, 
the  Sheriff  of  Kent,  and  Ranulf  de  Broc,  had  ridden  across, 
and  had  arrived  at  Sandwich  before  the  archbishop  landed. 
John  of  Oxford  hurried  to  them  with  the  king's  orders  that 
the  archbishop  was  to  be  received  in  peace.  They  advanced 
in  consequence  without  their  arms,  and  inquired  the  mean- 
ing of  the  excommunication  of  the  bishops.  To  their 
extreme  surprise,  they  were  told  that  the  letters  had  been 
issued  with  the  king's  knowledge  and  permission.  To  so 
bold  an  assertion  no  immediate  answer  was  possible.  They 
pointed  to  his  train,  among  whom  were  some  French  clergy. 
Strangers  coming  into  England  without  a  passport  were 
required  to  swear  allegiance  for  the  time  of  their  stay. 
The  sheriff  said  that  the  priests  must  take  the  usual  oaths. 
Becket  scornfully  answered  that  no  clerk  in  his  company 
should  take  any  oath  at  all.  He  declined  further  conversa- 
tion, and  bade  them  come  to  him  after  two  days  to  the  pal- 
ace of  Canterbury  if  they  had  more  to  say. 

Becket  passed  the  remainder  of  the  day  at  Sandwich. 
The  next  morning  he  set  out  for  his  cathedral.  Seven 
years  he  had  been  absent,  and  for  all  those  years  his  name 
had  been  a  household  word  in  castle  and  parsonage,  grange 
and  cabin.     In  England  people  sympathize  instinctively 


Thomas  JBecJcet. 


89 


with  every  one  who  opposes  the  Crown,  and  between  Sand- 
wich and  Canterbury  Becket  was  among  his  own  tenants,  to 
whom  he  had  been  a  gentler  master  than  Ranulf  de  Broc. 
The  short  winter  day's  ride  was  one  long  triumphal  proces- 
sion. Old  men,  women,  and  children  lined  the  roads  on  their 
knees  to  beg  his  blessing.  Clergy  came  at  the  head  of  their 
parishioners  with  garlands  and  banners.  Boys  chanted 
hymns.  Slowly  at  a  foot's  pace  the  archbishop  made  his 
way  among  the  delighted  multitudes.  It  was  evening  before 
he  reached  Canterbury.  He  went  direct  to  the  cathedral. 
His  face  shone  as  he  entered,  "  like  the  face  of  Moses  when 
he  descended  from  the  mount."  He  seated  himself  on  his 
throne,  and  the  monks  came  one  by  one  and  kissed  him. 
Tears  were  in  all  eyes.  "  My  lord,"  Herbert  whispered  to 
Him,  "  it  matters  not  now  when  you  depart  hence.  Christ 
has  conquered.  Christ  is  now  king."  "  He  looked  at  me." 
says  Herbert,  "  but  he  did  not  speak." 

Strangely  in  that  distant  century,  where  the  general  his- 
tory is  but  outline,  and  the  colors  are  dim,  and  the  lights 
and  shadows  fall  where  modern  imagination  chooses  to 
throw  them,  and  the  great  men  and  women  who  figured  on 
the  world's  stage  are,  for  the  most  part,  only  names,  the 
story  of  Becket,  in  these  last  days  of  it  especially,  stands  out 
as  in  some  indelible  photograph,  every  minutest  feature  of 
it  as  distinct  as  if  it  were  present  to  our  eyes.  We  have  the 
terrible  drama  before  us  in  all  its  details.  We  see  the  actors, 
we  hear  their  very  words,  we  catch  the  tones  of  their  voices, 
we  perceive  their  motives ;  we  observe  them  from  day  to 
day,  and  hour  to  hour;  we  comprehend  and  sympathize 
with  the  passions  through  the  fierce  collision  of  which  the 
action  was  worked  out  to  its  catastrophe.  The  importance 
of  the  questions  which  were  at  issue,  the  characters  of  the 
chief  performers,  and  the  intense  interest  with  which  they 
were  watched  by  the  spectators,  raise  the  biographies  and 
letters  in  which  the  story  is  preserved  to  a  level  of  literary 
excellence  far  beyond  what  is  to  be  found  in  all  contempo- 
rary writings. 


90 


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The  archbishop  slept  in  his  desolate  palace.  No  prepara- 
tions  had  been  made  for  him.  The  stores  had  not  been 
laid  in.  The  barns  and  byres  were  empty.  Ranulf  de  Broc 
had  swept  up  the  last  harvest,  and  had  left  the  lands  bare. 
In  the  morning  (December  3)  de  Wareune  and  the  sheriff 
reappeared  with  the  chaplains  of  the  three  bishops.  They 
had  been  led  to  hope,  they  said,  that  the  archbishop  would 
come  home  in  peace.  Instead  of  peace  he  had  brought  a 
sword.  By  scattering  excommunications  without  notice,  he 
was  introducing  confusion  into  ever}"  department  of  the 
realm.  The  very  crown  was  made  dependent  on  the  arch- 
bishop's will.  The  law  of  England  was  reduced  to  the  arch- 
bishop's edicts.  Such  a  assumption  could  not  and  would  not 
be  allowed.  The  excommunication  of  the  bishops  was  a 
dii'ect  blow  at  the  authority  of  the  young  king.  For  the 
archbishop's  own  sake  they  advised  him,  and  in  the  king's 
name  they  commanded  him,  to  take  the  censures  off,  or  a 
time  might  come  when  he  would  regret  his  violence  too  late 
to  repair  it. 

Until  the  issue  of  the  sentences  against  the  three  bishops, 
Alexander  had  not  committed  himself  to  any  positive  act  in 
Becket's  favor,  and  it  had  been  to  compromise  the  papacy 
distinctly  in  the  quarrel  that  the  pope's  letters  had  been 
thus  immediately  discharged.  Becket  answered  that  the 
excommunications  had  been  issued  by  the  supreme  pontiff, 
and  that  he  could  not  undo  the  work  of  his  superior.  He 
admitted,  with  exasperating  satire,  that  he  was  not  dis- 
pleased to  see  his  holiness  defend  the  Church  with  his  own 
hands.  To  punish  men  who  had  broken  the  law  was  not 
to  show  contempt  of  the  king.  He  had  himself  complained 
to  the  king  of  the  bishops'  conduct,  and  the  king  had  prom- 
ised that  he  should  have  satisfaction.  For  the  rest  he  ac- 
knowledged no  right  in  the  king  or  any  man  to  challenge 
his  conduct.  He  bore  the  spiritual  sword,  and  did  not  mean 
to  shrink  from  drawinj;  it  against  sinners,  whatever  might 
be  the  inconvenience.    If  the  bishops  would  take  an  oath  to 


Thomas  Becket, 


91 


submit  to  any  sentence  which  the  pope  might  pass  upon 
them,  he  would  strain  a  point  and  absolve  them ;  without 
such  an  oath,  never. 

The  answer  was  carried  to  Dover.  Foliot  and  the  Bishop  of 
Salisbury  were  willing,  it  was  said,  to  have  sworn  as  Becket 
prescribed.  The  archbishop  declared  that  he  would  spend 
the  last  forth ing  that  he  possessed  rather  than  yield  to  such 
insolence.  The  young  king  was  at  Winchester.^  De  Wa- 
renne  hastened  to  him  to  report  Becket's  behavior,  and 
probably  to  ask  instructions  as  to  what  the  bishops  should 
do.  They  crossed  eventually  to  the  old  king's  court  in 
Isormandy,  but  not  till  after  a  delay  of  more  than  a  fort- 
night at  Dover.  Obviously  the  conduct  which  they  were 
to  pursue  was  carefully  canvassed  and  deliberately  resolved 
upon.  Becket  himself,  too,  found  it  prudent  to  offer  ex- 
planations, and  send  the  Prior  of  Dover  after  De  Warenue 
to  Winchester  to  report  the  archbishop's  arrival,  and  to  ask 
permission  for  him  to  present  himself.  From  the  rapidity 
with  which  events  now  passed,  the  prior  must  have  ridden 
night  and  day.  Young  Henry  being  still  under  age,  the 
archbishop's  messenger  was  received  by  his  guardians,  whom 
he  found  in  towering  indignation.  The  excommunication 
was  regarded  as  an  invitation  to  rebellion,  and  had  Henry 
died  in  August  there  undoubtedly  would  have  been  rebellion. 
"  Does  the  archbishop  mean  to  make  pagans  of  us,  with  his 
suspensions  and  curses?"  they  said;  "does  he  intend  to 
upset  the  throne  ?  "  The  prior  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see 
the  young  king  himself.  He  assured  them  that  the  arch- 
bishop had  meant  no  injury  to  him.  No  one  in  the  realm 
besides  his  ftither  loved  the  prince  more  deai'ly.  The  dis- 
pleasure was  only  that  other  hands  than  those  of  the  primate 
had  placed  the  crown  upon  his  head.  He  repeated  tlie 
story  that  the  old  king  knew  what  was  to  be  done  to  the 
bishops.  He  trusted  that  the  young  king  would  not  refuse 
to  receive  a  person  who  only  desired  to  do  him  loyal  service. 

1  Not  Woodstock,  as  is  generally  said.  William  of  Canterbuiy,  with 
special  reference  to  localities,  says  Wintonia. 


92  Life  and  Times  of 

The  court  was  evidently  perplexed  by  the  confident  as- 
sertions with  respect  to  Henry.  The  Earl  of  Cornwall 
advised  that  Becket  should  be  allowed  to  come  ;  they  could 
hear  from  himself  an  explanation  of  the  mystery.  Geoffrey 
Ridel,  the  Archdeacon  of  Salisbury,  happened,  however,  to 
be  present.  Ridel  was  one  of  Henry  the  Second's  most 
confidential  advisers,  whom  Becket  had  cursed  at  Vezelay 
and  habitually  spoke  of  as  an  archdevil.  He  had  been  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  whole  details  of  the  quarrel  from 
its  commencement,  and  was  able  to  affirm  positively  that 
things  were  not  as  Becket  represented.  He  recommended 
the  guardians  to  consult  the  king  before  the  archbishop  was 
admitted ;  and  the  Prior  of  Dover  was,  in  consequence,  dis- 
missed without  an  answer. 

The  archbishop  had  committed  himself  so  deeply  that  he 
could  not  afford  to  wait.  His  hope  was  to  carry  the  coun- 
try with  him  before  the  king  could  interfere,  or  at  least  to 
have  formed  a  party  too  strong  to  be  roughly  dealt  with. 
The  Prior  of  Dover  not  having  brought  back  a  positive 
prohibition,  he  left  Canterbury  professedly  to  go  himself  to 
Winchester  :  but  he  chose  to  take  London  in  his  way  ;  it 
was  easy  to  say  that  he  had  been  long  absent ;  that  his  flock 
required  his  presence  ;  that  there  were  children  to  be  con- 
firmed, candidates  for  the  priesthood  to  be  ordained  —  holy 
rites  of  all  kinds,  too  long  neglected,  to  be  attended  to. 
There  was  no  difficulty  in  finding  an  excuse  for  a  circuit 
through  the  province ;  and  the  archiepiscopal  visitation  as- 
sumed the  form  of  a  military  jDarade.  Few  as  the  days  had 
been  since  he  had  set  his  foot  on  the  English  shore,  he  had 
contrived  to  gather  about  him  a  knot  of  laymen  of  high 
birth  and  station.  Quidam  illustres,  certain  persons  of  dis- 
tinction, attended  him  with  their  armed  retainers,  and,  sur- 
rounded by  a  steel-clad  retinue  with  glancing  morions  and 
bristling  lances,  the  archbishop  set  out  for  London  a  week 
after  his  return  from  the  Continent.  Rochester  lay  in  his 
way.    Rochester  Castle  was  one  of  the  strongholds  which 


Thomas  Bechet, 


93 


he  had  challenged  for  his  own.  The  gates  of  the  castle  re- 
mained closed  against  him,  but  the  townsmen  received  him 
as  their  liege  lord.  As  he  approached  Southwark  the  cit- 
izens poured  out  to  greet  the  illustrious  Churchman  who 
had  dared  to  defy  his  sovereign.  A  vast  procession  of  three 
thousand  clergy  and  scholars  formed  on  the  road,  and  went 
before  him  chanting  a  Te  Deum ;  and  this  passionate  dis- 
play had  a  deliberate  and  dangerous  meaning  which  every 
one  who  took  part  in  it  understood.  To  the  anxious  eyes 
of  the  court  it  was  a  first  step  in  treason,  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  shouts  of  the  crowd  a  voice  was  distinguished,  saying, 
"  Archbishop,  'ware  the  knife  !  " 

It  was  on  December  13  that  Becket  reached  London 
Bridge.  He  slept  that  night  close  by,  at  the  palace  of 
the  old  Bishop  of  Winchester.  His  movements  had  been 
watched.  The  next  morning  Sir  Jocelyn  of  Arimdel  and 
another  knight  waited  on  him  with  an  order  from  the  court 
at  Winchester  to  return  instantly  to  Canterbury,  and  to 
move  no  more  about  the  realm  with  armed  men.  The  arch- 
bishop had  not  ventured  so  far  to  be  frightened  at  the  first 
hard  word.  He  received  Sir  Jocelyn  as  a  king  might  re- 
ceive a  rebel  feudatory.  With  lofty  fierceness  he  said  he 
would  go  back  at  no  man's  bidding  if  Christmas  had  not 
been  so  near,  when  he  desired  to  be  in  his  cathedral.^  May 
I  not  visit  my  diocese?"  he  demanded.  "Will  the  king 
drive  off  the  shepherd  that  the  wolf  may  tear  the  flock  ? 
Let  God  see  to  it ! "  Arundel  said  that  he  had  come  to 
deliver  the  king's  commands,  not  to  dispute  about  them. 
"  Carry  back,  then,  my  commands  to  your  king,"  said  the 
archbishop.^  "  Your  commands  !  "  Arundel  retorted  ;  ad- 
dress your  commands  to  those  of  your  own  order."  Turn- 
ing sternly  to  tlie  young  lords  in  the  archbishop's  suite. 

1  "Spiritu  fervens  respondit  se  nullatenus  propter  inhibitionem  banc 
regressurum,  nisi  quia  tunc  jam  festus  tam  solemnis  urgebat  dies  quo  ec- 
clesije  suae  abesse  noluit." 

*  "Si  et  mandata  mea  regi  vestro  renunciaturi  estis." — William  of 
Canterbu'-y. 


94 


Life  and  Times  of 


he  bade  them  remember  their  duties,  and  rode  off  with  his 
companion. 

To  obey  was  to  lose  the  game.  Instead  of  obeying, 
the  archbishop  went  on  to  Harrow,  a  benefice  of  his  own 
into  which  an  incumbent  had  been  intruded  by  the  Crown. 
From  Harrow  he  sent  for  the  old  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  and 
dispatched  him  to  Winchester  with  a  list  of  complaints. 
At  the  same  time,  and  to  learn  the  strength  of  the  party  at 
court  which  he  supposed  to  be  ready  to  stand  by  him,  he 
sent  a  monk  —  apparently  William  of  Canterbury,  who  tells 
the  story  —  on  a  secret  and  dangerous  mission  to  the  Earl 
of  Cornwall.  The  monk  went  disguised  as  a  physician, 
Becket  bidding  him  write  word  how  things  were  going. 
The  words  in  which  he  gave  the  order  show  his  intention 
beyond  possibility  of  question.  The  pretended  physician 
was  to  go  velut  alter  Cushy,  and  Cushy  was  the  messenger 
who  brought  word  to  David  that  the  Lord  had  avenged 
him  of  his  enemies,  and  that  the  young  king  Absalom  was 
dead.^ 

The  Earl  of  Cornwall  was  well-disposed  to  Becket,  but 
was  true  to  his  king  and  his  country.  When  the  rebellion 
actually  broke  out,  three  years  after,  the  Earl  of  Cornwall's 
loyalty  saved  Henry's  crown.  He  was  willing  to  befriend 
the  archbishop  within  the  limits  of  law,  but  not  to  the 
extent  upon  which  Becket  counted.  He  received  the  dis- 
guised monk  into  his  household ;  he  examined  him  closely 
as  to  the  archbishop's  intentions.  He  would  perhaps  have 
allowed  him  to  remain,  but  a  servant  of  the  young  king 
recognized  the  man  through  his  assumed  character  as  one 
of  Becket's  immediate  followers,  two  days  after  his  arrival. 
The  earl  bade  him  begone  on  the  instant,  and  tell  his  mas- 
ter to  look  to  himself ;  his  life  was  in  perilf 

The  Abbot  of  St.  Albans  had  travelled  more  slowly 
The  discovery  was  a  bad  preparation  for  his  reception. 
Sir  Jocelyn  of  Arundel  had  brought  back  Becket's  insolent 
1  2  Samuel  xviii.  31. 


Thomas  BecheL 


95 


answer,  and  the  open  disobedience  of  the  order  to  return  to 
Canterbury  could  be  construed  only  as  defiance.  To  the 
alarmed  guardians  it  seemed  as  if  an  insurrection  might 
break  out  at  any  moment.  The  abbot  found  the  court  at 
Breamore,  near  Fordingbridge,  in  Hampshire.  He  was 
admitted,  and  he  presented  his  schedule  of  wrongs,  which, 
after  all,  was  trifling.  The  archbishop's  clergy  were  forbid- 
den to  leave  the  realm.  He  had  been  promised  restitution 
of  his  property,  but  it  had  been  given  back  to  him  in  ruins. 
His  game  had  been  destroyed ;  his  woods  had  been  cut 
down  ;  his  benefices  were  detained  from  him.  As  a  last 
outrage,  since  his  return  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc  had  seized  a 
cargo  of  wine  which  he  had  brought  over  with  the  old 
king's  permission.  The  vessel  in  which  it  had  arrived  had 
been  scuttled,  and  the  crew  had  been  incarcerated.  God 
was  injured  when  his  clergy  were  injured,  the  abbot  said, 
and  in  Becket's  name  he  demanded  redress. 

The  abbot  had  spoken  firmly,  but  in  language  and  man- 
ner he  had  at  least  recognized  that  he  was  a  subject  address- 
ing his  sovereign.  A  priest  in  his  train,  with  Becket's  own 
temper  in  him,  thundered  out  as  the  abbot  had  ended: 
"  Thus  saith  the  Lord  Primate,  '  Let  man  so  think  of  us  as 
ministers  of  Christ  and  stewards  of  the  mysteries  of  God. 
If  justice  be  not  done  as  right  demands,  ye  need  not  doubt 
that  we  will  do  our  part  and  use  the  powers  which  God  has 
committed  to  us.' "  The  fierce  message  was  delivered 
amidst  scowling  groups  of  knights  and  nobles.  Hot  youths 
clenched  their  fists  and  clutched  their  dagger-hilts.  A 
courtier  told  the  bold  priest  that,  but  for  the  honor  of  the 
king's  presence,  he  should  suffer  for  his  insolence.  Sir 
Reginald  de  Warenne,  who  was  present,  said,  The  bows 
are  bent  on  both  sides."  The  Earl  of  Cornwall,  fresh  from 
his  conference  with  Becket's  secret  messenger,  muttered, 
"  Ere  Lent  there  will  be  wild  work  in  Enorland." 

o 

The  archbishop  was  still  at  Harrow  when  the  abbot  came 
back  with  an  account  of  his  reception.    Many  things  the 


96 


Life  and  Times  of 


abbot  must  have  been  able  to  tell  him  which  have  been  left 
unrecorded.  Thus  much,  at  any  rate,  must  have  been  made 
plain  —  that  the  archbishop  could  not  count  on  any  imme- 
diate armed  intervention.  For  the  moment,  at  least,  he 
would  be  left  to  face  alone  the  storm  which  he  had  raised. 
The  best  that  he  could  now  hope  to  effect  would  be  to  bury 
himself  and  his  enemies  in  common  ruin.  He  foretold  his 
fate  to  the  abbot,  and,  resisting  entreaties  to  spend  Christ- 
mas at  St.  Albans,  went  back  to  Canterbury,  where  he  had 
still  work  before  him  which  could  be  accomplished  only  in 
his  own  cathedral. 


I 

Thomas  BeeJcet. 


97 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  story  now  turns  to  Henry's  court  in  Normandy. 
Between  Southampton  and  the  Norman  coast  communica- 
tions were  easy  and  rapid  ;  and  the  account  of  the  arriyal 
of  the  censured  bishops,  with  the  indignant  words  which 
burst  from  the  king  at  the  unwelcome  news  which  he  heard 
from  them  for  the  first  time,  is  an  imperfect  legend  in 
which  the  transactions  of  many  days  must  haye  been  epit- 
omized. 

The  bishops  did  not  leave  England  till  the  20th  or  21st 
of  December,^  and  before  their  appearance  the  king  must 
haye  heard  already  not  only  of  the  excommunications  and 
of  the  daring  misuse  of  his  own  name,  but  of  the  armed 
progress  to  London,  of  the  remarkable  demonstration  there, 
of  the  archbishop's  defiance  of  the  goyernment,  of  the  mis- 
sion of  the  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  of  the  threats  of  the  priest, 
and  of  tlie  imminent  danger  of  a  general  rebellion.  Dur- 
ing the  first  three  weeks  of  this  December  many  an  anxious 
council  must  haye  been  held  in  the  Norman  court,  and  many 
a  scheme  talked  oyer  and  rejected  for  dealing  with  this  im- 
practicable firebrand.  What  could  be  done  with  him  ?  No 
remedy  was  now  ayailable  but  a  yiolent  one.  The  law 
could  not  restrain  a  man  who  claimed  to  be  superior  to  law 
and  whose  claims  the  nation  was  not  prepared  directly  to 
deny.  Three  centuries  later  the  solution  would  haye  been 
a  formal  trial,  with  the  block  and  axe  as  the  sequel  of  a 
judicial  sentence.  Ecclesiastical  pretensions  were  still  for- 
midable under  Tudors,  but  the  State  had  acquired  strength 

1  Herbert  says  that  they  arrived  at  Bayeux  paucis  diebus  ante  natalem 
Domini. 

7 


98 


Life  and  Times  of 


to  control  them.    In  our  own  day  the  phantom  has  been 

exorcised  altogether,  and  an  archbishop  who  used  Becket's 
language  would  be  consigned  to  an  asylum.  In  Becket's 
own  time  neither  of  these  methods  was  possible.  Becket 
himself  could  neither  be  borne  with,  consistently  with  the 
existence  of  the  civil  government,  nor  resisted  save  at  the 
risk  of  censures  w^hich  even  the  king  scarcely  dared  to  en- 
counter. A  bishop  might  have  committed  the  seven  deadly 
sins,  but  his  word  was  still  a  spell  which  could  close  the 
gates  of  heaven.  The  allegiance  of  the  people  could  not  be 
depended  upon  for  a  day  if  Becket  chose  to  declare  the 
king  excommunicated,  unless  the  pope  should  interfere ; 
and  the  pope  was  an  inadequate  resource  in  a  struggle  for 
the  supremacy  of  the  Church  over  the  State.  It  was  not 
until  secular  governments  could  look  popes  and  bishops  in 
the  fiice,  and  bid  them  curse  till  they  were  tired,  that  the 
relations  of  Church  and  State  admitted  of  legal  definition. 
Till  that  time  should  arrive  the  ecclesiastical  theory  was 
only  made  tolerable  by  submitting  to  the  checks  of  tacit 
compromise  and  practical  good  sense. 

Necessities  for  compromises  of  this  kind  exist  at  all 
times.  In  the  most  finished  constitutions  powers  are  as- 
signed to  the  diflferent  branches  of  the  State  which  it  would 
be  inconvenient  or  impossible  to  remove,  yet  which  would 
cause  an  immediate  catastrophe  if  the  theory  were  made 
the  measure  of  practice.  Tlie  Crown  retains  a  prerogative 
at  present  which  would  be  fatal  to  it  if  strained.  Par- 
liament would  make  itself  intolerable  if  it  asserted  the 
entire  privileges  which  it  legally  possesses.  The  clergy  in 
the  twelfth  century  were  allowed  and  believed  to  be  minis- 
ters of  God  in  a  sense  in  which  neither  Crown  nor  baron 
dared  appropriate  the  name  to  themselves.  None  the  less 
the  clergy  could  not  be  allowed  to  reduce  Crown  and  barons 
into  entire  submission  to  themselves.  If  either  churchman 
or  king  broke  the  tacit  bargain  of  mutual  moderation  which 
enabled  them  to  work  together  harmoniously,  the  relations 


Thomas  Bechef, 


99 


between  the  two  orders  might  not  admit  of  more  satisfac- 
tory theoretic  adjustment ;  but  there  remained  the  resource 
to  put  out  of  the  way  the  disturber  of  the  peace. 

Fuel  ready  to  kindle  was  lying  dry  throughout  Henry's 
dominions.  If  Becket  was  to  be  allowed  to  scatter  excom- 
munications at  his  own  pleasure,  to  travel  through  the 
country  attended  by  knights  in  arms,  and  surrounded  by 
adoring  fools  who  regarded  him  as  a  supernatural  being,  it 
was  easy  to  foresee  the  immediate  future  of  England  and 
of  half  France.  To  persons,  too,  who  knew  the  archbishop 
as  well  as  Henry's  court  knew  him,  the  character  of  the 
man  himself  who  was  causing  so  much  anxiety  must  have 
been  peculiarly  irritating.  Had  Becket  been  an  Anselm, 
he  might  have  been  credited  with  a  desire  to  promote  the 
interests  of  the  Church,  not  for  power's  sake,  but  for  the 
sake  of  those  spiritual  and  moral  influences  which  the 
Catholic  Church  was  still  able  to  exert,  at  least  in  some 
happy  instances.  But  no  such  high  ambition  was  to  be 
traced  either  in  Becket's  agitation  or  in  Becket's  own  dis- 
position. He  was  still  the  self-willed,  violent,  unscrupulous 
chancellor,  with  the  dress  of  the  saint  upon  him,  but  not 
the  nature.  His  cause  was  not  the  mission  of  the  Church 
to  purify  and  elevate  mankind,  but  the  privilege  of  the 
Church  to  control  the  civil  government,  and  to  dictate  the 
law  in  virtue  of  magical  powers  which  we  now  know  to 
have  been  a  dream  and  a  delusion.  His  personal  religion 
was  not  the  religion  of  a  regenerated  heart,  but  a  religion 
of  self-torturing  asceticism,  a  religion  of  the  scourge  and  the 
hair  shirt,  a  religion  in  which  the  evidences  of  grace  were 
to  be  traced  not  in  humbleness  and  truth,  but  in  the  worms 
and  maggots  which  crawled  about  his  body.  He  was  the 
impersonation,  not  of  what  was  highest  and  best  in  the 
Catholic  Church,  but  of  what  was  falsest  and  worst.  The 
fear  which  he  inspired  was  not  the  reverence  willingly 
offered  to  a  superior  nature,  but  a  superstitious  terror  like 
that  felt  for  witches  and  enchanters,  which  brave  men  at 
the  call  of  a  higher  duty  could  dare  to  defy. 


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No  one  knows  what  passed  at  Bayeux  during  the  first 
weeks  of  that  December.  King  and  council,  knights  and 
nobles,  squires  and  valets  niust  have  talked  of  little  else 
but  Becket  and  his  doings.  The  pages  at  Winchester  laid 
their  hands  on  their  dagger-hilts  when  the  priest  delivered 
his  haughty  message.  The  peers  and  gentlemen  who  sur- 
rounded Henry  at  Bayeux  are  not  likely  to  have  felt  more 
gently  as  each  day  brought  news  from  England  of  some 
fresh  audacity.  At  length  a  few  days  before  Christmas,  the 
three  bishops  arrived.  Two  were  under  the  curse,  and 
could  not  be  admitted  into  the  king's  presence.  The  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  being  only  suspended,  carried  less  contami- 
nation with  him.  At  a  council  the  archbishop  was  intro- 
duced, and  produced  Alexander's  letters.  From  these  it 
appeared  not  only  that  he  and  the  other  bishops  were  de- 
nounced by  name,  but  that  every  person  who  had  taken  any 
part  in  the  young  king's  coronation  was  by  implication  ex- 
communicated also.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  king 
had  received  a  positive  sanction  for  the  coronation  from 
Alexander ;  that  neither  he  nor  the  bishops  had  received 
the  prohibition  till  the  ceremony  was  over;  and  that  the  pro- 
hibitory letter,  which  it  is  at  least  possible  that  the  king 
would  have  respected,  had  been  kept  back  by  Becket  himself. 

The  Archbishop  of  York  still  advised  forbearance,  and 
an  appeal  once  more  to  Rome.  The  pope  would  see  at 
last  what  Becket  really  was,  and  would  relieve  the  country 
of  him.  But  an  appeal  to  Rome  would  take  time,  and 
England  meanwhile  might  be  in  flames.  "By  God's  eyes," 
said  the  king,  "  if  all  are  excommunicated  who  were  con- 
cerned in  the  coronation,  I  am  excommunicated  also." 
Some  one  (the  name  of  the  speaker  is  not  mentioned)  said 
that  there  would  be  no  peace  while  Becket  lived.  With 
the  fierce  impatience  of  a  man  baffled  by  a  problem  which 
he  has  done  his  best  to  solve,  and  has  failed  through  no 
fault  of  his  own,  Henry  is  reported  to  have  exclaimed  :  "  Is 
this  varlet  that  I  loaded  with  kindness,  that  came  first  to 


Thomas  Bechet. 


101 


court  to  me  on  a  lame  mule,  to  insult  me  and  my  children, 
and  take  my  crown  from  me  ?  What  cowards  have  I  about 
me,  that  no  one  will  deliver  me  from  this  lowborn  priest ! " 
It  is  very  likely  that  Henry  used  such  words.  The  greatest 
prince  that  ever  sat  on  throne,  if  tried  as  Henry  had  been, 
would  have  said  the  same  ;  and  Henry  had  used  almost  the 
same  language  to  the  bishops»at  Chinon  in  1166.  But  it  is 
evident  that  much  is  still  untold.  These  passionate  denun- 
ciations can  be  no  more  than  the  outcome  of  long  and  in- 
effectual deliberation.  Projects  must  have  been  talked 
over  and  rejected ;  orders  were  certainly  conceived  which 
were  to  be  sent  to  the  archbishop,  and  measures  were  de- 
vised for  dealing  with  him  short  of  his  death.  He  was  to 
be  required  to  absolve  the  censured  bishops.  If  he  refused, 
he  might  be  sent  in  custody  to  the  young  king,  he  might  be 
brought  to  Normandy,  he  might  be  exiled  from  the  English 
dominions,  or  he  might  be  imprisoned  in  some  English 
castle.  Indications  can  be  traced  of  all  these  plans ;  and 
something  of  the  kind  would  probably  have  been  resolved 
upon,  although  it  must  have  been  painfully  clear  also  that, 
without  the  pope's  help,  none  of  them  would  really  meet 
the  difficulty.  But  the  result  was  that  the  knights  about 
the  court,  seeing  the  king's  perplexity,  determined  to  take 
the  risk  on  themselves,  and  deliver  both  him  and  their 
country.  If  the  king  acted,  the  king  might  be  excommuni- 
cated, and  the  empire  might  be  laid  under  interdict,  with 
the  consequences  which  every  one  foresaw.  For  their  own 
acts  the  penalty  would  but  fall  upon  themselves.  They  did 
not  know,  perhaps,  distinctly  what  they  meant  to  do,  but 
something  might  have  to  be  done  which  the  king  must  con- 
demn if  they  proposed  it  to  him. 

But  being  done  unknown, 
He  would  have  found  it  afterwards  well  done. 

Impetuous  loyalty  to  the  sovereign  was  in  the  spirit  of 
the  age. 


102 


Life  and  Times  of 


Among  the  gentlemen  about  his  person  whom  Henry 
had  intended  to  employ,  could  he  have  resolved  upon  the 
instructions  which  were  to  be  given  to  them,  were  four 
knights  of  high  birth  and  large  estate  —  Sir  Reginald  Fitz- 
urse,  of  Somersetshire,  a  tenant  in  chief  of  the  Crown,  whom 
Becket  himself  had  originally  introduced  into  the  court ;  Sir 
Hugh  de  Morville,  custodian  of  Knaresborough  Castle,  and 
justiciary  of  Northumberland  ;  Sir  William  de  Tracy,  half 
a  Saxon,  with  royal  blood  in  him ;  and  Sir  Richard  le 
Breton,  who  had  been  moved  to  volunteer  in  the  service  by 
another  instance  of  Becket's  dano-erous  meddlinjj.  Le  Bre- 
ton  was  a  friend  of  the  king's  brother  William,  whom  the 
archbishop  had  separated  from  the  lady  to  whom  he  was 
about  to  be  married,  on  some  plea  of  consanguinity.  Sir 
William  de  Mandeville  and  others  were  to  have  been  joined 
in  the  commission.  But  these  four  chose  to  anticipate  both 
their  companions  and  their  final  orders,  and  started  alone. 
Their  disappearance  was  observed.  An  express  was  sent 
to  recall  them,  and  the  king  supposed  that  they  had  re- 
turned. But  they  had  gone  by  separate  routes  to  separate 
ports.  The  weather  was  fair  for  the  season  of  the  year, 
with  an  east  wind  perhaps  ;  and  each  had  found  a  vessel 
without  difficulty  to  carry  him  across  the  Channel.  The 
rendezvous  was  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc's  castle  of  Saltwood, 
near  Hythe,  thirteen  miles  from  Canterbury. 

The  archbishop  meanwhile  had  returned  from  his  adven- 
turous expedition.  The  young  king  and  his  advisers  had 
determined  to  leave  him  no  fair  cause  of  complaint,  and  had 
sent  orders  for  the  restoration  of  his  wine  and  the  release 
of  the  captured  seamen  ;  but  the  archbishop  would  not  wait 

1  Mandeville  came  afterwards  to  Canterbury,  and  being  a>ked  what  he 
had  been  prepared  to  do  if  he  had  found  the  archbishop  alive,  he  said 
"that  he  would  have  taken  the  archbishop  sharply  to  task  for  his  attacks 
upon  his  sovereign  :  if  the  archbishop  had  been  reasonable,  there  would 
have  been  peace;  if  he  had  persisted  in  his  obstinacy  and  presumption, 
beyond  doubt  he  would  have  been  compelled  to  yield."  Mandeville,  indis- 
putably, had  direct  instructions  from  the  king.  —  Materials,  vol.  i.  p.  126. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


103 


for  the  State  to  do  him  justice.  On  Christmas  Eve  he  was 
further  exasperated  by  the  appearance  at  the  gate  of  his 
palace  of  one  of  his  sumpter  mules,  which  had  been  brutally- 
mutilated  by  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc's  kinsman  Robert.  "  The 
viper's  brood,"  as  Herbert  de  Bosham  said,  "  were  lifting  up 
their  heads.  The  hornets  were  out.  Bulls  of  Bashan  com- 
passed the  archbishop  round  about."  The  Earl  of  Corn- 
wall's warning  had  reached  him,  but  "fight,  not  flight,"  was 
alone  in  his  thoughts.  He,  too,  was  probably  weary  of  the 
strife,  and  may  have  felt  that  he  would  serve  his  cause 
more  effectually  by  death  than  by  life.  On  Christmas  day 
he  preached  in  the  cathedral  on  the  text  "  Peace  to  men  of 
good  will."  There  was  no  peace,  he  said,  except  to  men 
of  good  will.  He  spoke  passionately  of  the  trials  of  the 
Church.  As  he  drew  towards  an  end  he  alluded  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  his  own  martyrdom.  He  could  scarcely  articu- 
late for  tears.  The  congregation  were  sobbing  round  him. 
Suddenly  his  face  altered,  his  tone  changed.  Glowing  with" 
anger,  with  the  fatal  candles  in  front  of  him,  and  in  a  voice 
of  thunder,  the  solemn  and  the  absurd  strangely  blended  in 
the  overwhelming  sense  of  his  own  wrongs,  he  cursed  the 
intruders  into  his  churches;  he  cursed  Sir  Ranulf  de  Broc; 
he  cursed  Robert  de  Broc  for  cutting  off  his  mule's  tail; 
he  cursed  by  name  several  of  the  old  king's  most  intimate 
councillors  who  were  at  the  court  in  Normandy.  At  each 
fierce  imprecation  he  quenched  a  light,  and  dashed  down 
a  candle.  "As  he  spoke,"  says  the  enthusiastic  Herbert, 
"you  saw  the  very  beast  of  the  pro)»hf^t's  vision,  with  the 
face  of  a  lion  and  the  face  of  a  man.  "  He  had  drawn  the 
spiritual  sword,  as  he  had  sworn  that  ne  would.  So  expe- 
rienced a  man  of  the  world  could  not  have  failed  to  foresee 
that  he  was  provoking  passions  which  would  no  longer 
respect  his  office,  and  that  no  i-ising  in  England  would 
now  be  in  time  to  save  him.  He  was  in  better  spirits,  it 
was  observed,  after  he  had  dischaiged  his  anathema.  The 
Christmas  festival  was  held  in  the  hall.    Asceticism  was  a 


104 


Life  and  Times  of 


virtue  which  was  never  easy  to  him.  He  indulged  his  natu- 
ral inclinations  at  all  permitted  times,  and  on  this  occasion 
he  ate  and  drank  more  copiously  than  usual. 

The  next  day  Becket  received  another  warning  that  he 
was  in  personal  danger.  He  needed  no  friends  to  tell  him 
that.  The  only  attention  which  he  paid  to  these 'messages 
was  to  send  his  secretary  Herbert  and  his  crossbearer  Alex- 
ander Llewellyn  to  France,  to  report  his  situation  to  Lewis 
and  to  the  Archbishop  of  Sens.-^  He  told  Herbert  at  part- 
ing that  he  would  see  his  'face  no  more. 

So  passed  at  Canterbury  Saturday,  Sunday,  and  Mon- 
day, the  26th,  27th,  and  28th  of  December.  On  that  same 
Monday  afternoon  the  four  knights  arrived  at  Saltwood. 
They  were  expected,  for  Sir  Ranulf  with  a  party  of  men- 
at-arms  had  gone  to  meet  them.  There  on  their  arrival 
they  learned  the  fresh  excommunications  which  had  been 
pronounced  against  their  host  and  against  their  friends  at 
the  court.  The  news  could  only  have  confirmed  whatever 
resolutions  they  had  formed. 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th  they  rode  with  an  escort  of 
horse  along  the  old  Roman  road  to  Canterbury.  They 
halted  at  St.  Augustine's  Monastery,  where  they  were  en- 
tertained by  the  abbot  elect,  Becket's  old  enemy,  the  scan- 
dalous Clarembald.  They  perhaps  dined  there.  At  any 
rate  they  issued  a  proclamation  bidding  the  inhabitants  re- 
main quiet  in  their  houses,  in  the  king's  name,  and  then, 
with  some  of  Clarembald's  armed  servants  in  addition  to 
their  own  party,  they  went  on  to  the  great  gate  of  the 
archbishop's  palace.  Leaving  their  men  outside,  the  four 
knights  alighted  and  entered  the  court.  They  unbuckled 
their  swords,  leaving  them  at  the  lodge,  and,  throwing 
gowns  over  their  armor,  they  strode  across  to  the  door  of  the 
hall.   Their  appearance  could  hardly  have  been  unexpected. 

1  One  of  his  complaints,  presented  by  the  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  had  been 
that  his  clergy  were  not  allowed  to  leave  the  realm.  There  seems  to  have 
been  no  practical  difficulty. 


Thomas  BecTcet. 


105 


It  was  now  between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
They  had  been  some  time  in  the  town,  and  their  arrival 
could  not  fail  to  have  been  reported.  The  archbishop's 
midday  meal  was  over.  The  servants  were  dining  on  the 
remains,  and  the  usual  company  of  mendicants  were  waiting 
for  their  turn.  The  archbishop  had  been  again  disturbed  at 
daybreak  by  intimation  of  danger.  He  had  advised  any  of 
his  clergy  who  were  afraid  to  escape  to  Sandwich  ;  but  none 
of  them  had  left  him.  He  had  heard  mass  as  usual.  He 
had  received  his  customary  floggings.  At  dinner  he  had 
drunk  freely,  observing,  when  some  one  remarked  upon  it, 
that  he  that  had  blood  to  lose  needed  wine  to  support  him. 
Afterwards  he  had  retired  into  an  inner  room  with  John  of 
Salisbury,  his  chaplain  Fitzstephen,  Edward  Grim  of  Cam- 
bridge, who  was  on  a  visit  to  him,  and  several  others,  and 
was  now  sitting  in  conversation  with  them  in  the  declining 
light  of  the  winter  afternoon  till  the  bell  should  ring  for 
vespers. 

The  knights  were  recognized,  when  they  entered  the  hall, 
as  belonging  to  the  king's  court.  The  steward  invited  them 
to  eat.  They  declined,  and  desired  him  to  inform  the  arch- 
bishop that  they  had  arrived  with  a  message  from  the  Court. 
This  was  the  first  communication  which  the  archbishop  had 
received  from  Henry  since  he  had  used  his  name  so  freely 
to  cover  acts  which,  could  Henry  have  anticipated  them, 
would  have  barred  his  return  to  Canterbury  forever.  The 
insincere  professions  of  peace  had  covered  an  intention  of 
provoking  a  rebellion.  The  truth  was  now  plain.  There 
was  no  room  any  more  for  excuse  or  palliation.  What 
course  had  the  king  determined  on  ? 

The  knights  were  introduced.  They  advanced.  The 
archbishop  neither  spoke  nor  looked  at  them,  but  continued 
talking  to  a  monk  who  was  next  him.  He  himself  was 
sitting  on  a  bed.  The  rest  of  the  party  present  were  on  the 
floor.  The  knights  seated  themselves  in  the  same  manner, 
and  for  a  few  moments  there  was  silence.    Then  Becket's 


106 


Life  and  Times  of 


black,  restless  eye  glanced  from  one  to  the  other.  He 
slightly  noticed  Tracy ;  and  Fitzurse  said  a  few  unrecorded 
sentences  to  him,  which  ended  with  God  help  you  !  "  To 
Becket's  friends  the  words  sounded  like  insolence.  They 
may  have  meant  no  more  than  pity  for  the  deliberate  fool 
who  was  forcing  destruction  upon  himself. 

Becket's  face  flushed.  Fitzurse  went  on :  "  We  bring 
you  the  commands  of  the  king  beyond  the  sea ;  will  you 
hear  us  in  public  or  in  private?  "    Becket  said  he  cared  not. 

In  private,  then,"  said  Fitzurse.  The  monks  thought 
afterwards  that  Fitzurse  had  meant  to  kill  the  archbishop 
where  he  sat.  If  the  knights  had  entered  the  palace, 
thronged  as  it  was  with  men,  with  any  such  intention,  they 
would  scarcely  have  left  their  swords  behind  them.  The 
room  was  cleared,  and  a  short  altercation  followed,  of  which 
nothing  is  known  save  that  it  ended  speedily  in  high  words 
on  both  sides.  Becket  called  in  his  clergy  again,  his  lay 
servants  being  excluded,^  and  bade  Fitzurse  go  on.  "  Be  it 
so,"  Sir  Reginald  said.  "  Listen  then  to  what  the  king  says. 
When  the  peace  was  made,  he  put  aside  all  his  complaints 
against  you.  He  allowed  you  to  return,  as  you  desired, 
free  to  your  see.  You  have  now  added  contempt  to  your 
other  offences.  You  have  broken  the  treaty.  You  have 
allowed  your  pride  to  tempt  you  to  defy  your  lord  and  mas- 
ter to  your  own  sorrow.  You  have  censured  the  bishops 
by  whose  administration  the  prince  was  crowned.  You 
have  pronounced  an  anathema  against  the  king's  ministers, 
by  whose  advice  he  is  guided  in  the  management  of  the 
Empire.  You  have  made  it  plain  that  if  you  could  you 
would  take  the  prince's  crown  from  him.  Your  plots  and 
contrivances  to  attain  your  ends  are  notorious  to  all  men. 
Say,  then,  will  you  attend  us  to  the  king's  presence,  and 
there  answer  for  yourself?    For  this  we  are  sent." 

The  archbishop  declared  that  he  had  never  wished  any 
hurt  to  the  prince.    The  king  had  no  occasion  to  be  dis- 
1  "  Laicis  omnibus  exclusis.  " 


Thomas  Bechet. 


107 


pleased  if  crowds  came  about  him  in  the  towns  and  cities 
after  having  been  so  long  deprived  of  his  presence.  If  he 
had  done  any  wrong  he  would  make  satisfaction,  but  he 
protested  against  being  suspected  of  intentions  which  had 
never  entered  his  mind. 

Fitzurse  did  not  enter  into  an  altercation  with  him,  but 
continued  :  "The  king  commands  further  that  you  and  your 
clerks  repair  without  delay  to  the  young  king's  presence, 
and  swear  allegiance,  and  promise  to  amend  your  faults." 

The  archbishop's  temper  was  fast  rising.  "I  will  do 
whatever  may  be  reasonable,"  he  said,  "  but  I  tell  you 
plainly  the  king  shall  have  no  oaths  from  me,  nor  from 
any  one  of  my  clergy.  There  has  been  too  much  perjury 
already.  I  have  absolved  many,  with  God's  help,  who  had 
perjured  themselves.-^  I  will  absolve  the  rest  when  He 
permits. 

"  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  will  not  obey,"  said 
Fitzurse ;  and  went  on  in  the  same  tone  :  "  The  king  com- 
mands you  to  absolve  the  bishops  whom  you  have  excom- 
municated without  his  permission  {absque  licentid  sua)  J' 

"  The  pope  sentenced  the  bishops,"  the  archbishop  said. 
"  If  you  are  not  pleased,  you  must  go  to  him.  The  affair  is 
none  of  mine." 

Fitzurse  said  it  had  been  done  at  his  instigation,  which 
he  did  not  deny ;  but  he  proceeded  to  reassert  that  the  king 
had  given  him  permission.  He  had  complained  at  the  time 
of  the  peace  of  the  injury  which  he  had  suffered  in  the 
coronation,  and  the  king  had  told  him  that  he  might  obtain 
from  the  pope  any  satisfaction  for  which  he  liked  to  ask. 

If  this  was  all  the  consent  which  the  king  had  given,  the 
pretence  of  his  authority  was  inexcusable.  Fitzurse  could 
scarce  hear  the  archbishop  out  with  patience.  "  Ay,  ay  !  " 
said  he ;  "  will  you  make  the  king  out  to  be  a  traitor,  then  ? 
The  king  gave  you  leave  to  excommunicate  the  bishops 

1  He  was  alluding  to  the  bishops  who  had  sworn  to  the  Constitutions  of 
Clarendon. 


108 


Life  and  Times  of 


when  they  were  acting  by  his  own  order  !  It  is  more  than 
we  can  bear  to  listen  to  such  monstrous  accusations." 

John  of  Salisbury  tried  to,  check  the  archbishop's  impru- 
dent tongue,  and  whispered  to  him  to  speak  to  the  knights 
in  private :  but  when  the  passion  was  on  him,  no  mule  was 
more  ungovernable  than  Becket.  Drawing  to  a  conclusion, 
Fitzurse  said  to  him :  "  Since  you  refuse  to  do  any  one  of 
those  things  which  the  king  requires  of  you,  his  final  com- 
mands are  that  you  and  your  clergy  shall  forthwith  depart 
out  of  this  realm  and  out  of  his  dominions,  never  more  to 
return.-"-  You  have  broken  the  peace  and  the  king  cannot 
trust  you  again." 

Becket  answered  wildly  that  he  would  not  go  —  never 
again  would  he  leave  England.  Nothing  but  death  should 
now  part  him  from  his  church.  Stung  by  the  reproach  of 
ill-faith,  he  poured  out  the  catalogue  of  his  own  injuries. 
He  had  been  promised  restoration,  and  instead  of  restora- 
tion he  had  been  robbed  and  insulted.  Ranulf  de  Broc  had 
laid  an  embargo  on  his  wine.  Robert  de  Broc  had  cut  off 
his  mule's  tail,  and  now  the  knights  had  come  to  menace 
him. 

De  Morville  said  that  if  he  had  suffered  any  wrong  he 
had  only  to  appeal  to  the  council,  and  justice  would  be 
done. 

Becket  did  not  wish  for  the  council's  justice.  "  I  have 
complained  enough,"  he  said ;  "  so  many  wrongs  are  daily 
heaped  upon  me  that  I  could  not  find  messengers  to  carry 
the  tale  of  them.  I  am  refused  access  to  the  court.  Nei- 
ther one  kinfj  nor  the  other  will  do  me  riijht.  I  will  endure 
it  no  more.  I  will  use  my  own  powers  as  archbishop,  and 
no  child  of  man  shall  prevent  me." 

1  "Hoc  est  praeceptum  regis,  ut  de  regno  et  terra  quae  ipsius  subjacet 
imperio  cum  tuis  omnibus  egrediaris;  neque  enim  pax  erit  tibi  vel  tuorum 
cuiquam  ab  hac  die,  quia  pacem  violasti."  These  remarkable  words  are 
given  by  Grim,  who  heard  them  spoken.  After  the  deliberate  fraud  of 
which  Becket  had  been  guilty  towards  the  pope  in  suppressing  the 
inhibitory  letter  addressed  to  the  Archbishop  of  York,  Alexander  might 
perhaps  have  been  induced  at  last  to  approve  of  such  a  measure. 


Thomas  BecJcet. 


109 


You  w\\\  lay  the  realm  under  interdict,  then,  and  ex- 
communicate the  whole  of  us  ?  "  said  Fitzurse. 

So  God  help  me,"  said  one  of  the  others,  "  he  shall  not 
do  tliat.  He  has  excommunicated  over-many  already.  We 
have  borne  too  long  with  him." 

The  knights  sprang  to  their  feet,  twisting  their  gloves 
and  swinging  their  arms.  The  archbishop  rose.  In  the 
general  noise  words  could  no  longer  be  accurately  heard. 
At  length  the  knights  moved  to  leave  the  room,  and,  ad- 
dressing the  archbishop's  attendants,  said,  "  In  the  king's 
name  we  command  you  to  see  that  this  man  does  not 
escape." 

Do  you  think  I  shall  fly,  then  ?  "  cried  the  archbishop. 
Neither  for  the  king  nor  for  any  living  man  will  I  fly. 
You  cannot  be  more  ready  to  kill  me  than  I  am  to  die.  .  .  . 
Here  you  will  find  me,"  he  shouted,  following  them  to  the 
door  as  they  went  out,  and  calling  after  them.  Some  of 
his  friends  thought  that  he  had  asked  De  Morville  to  come 
back  and  speak  quietly  with  him,  but  it  was  not  so.  He 
returned  to  his  seat  still  excited  and  complaining. 

"  My  lord,"  said  John  of  Salisbury  to  him,  "  it  is  strange 
that  you  will  never  be  advised.  What  occasion  was  there 
for  you  to  go  after  these  men  and  exasperate  them  with 
your  bitter  speeches  ?  You  would  have  done  better  surely 
by  being  quiet  and  giving  them  a  milder  answer.  They 
mean  no  good,  and  you  only  commit  yourself" 

The  archbishop  sighed,  and  said,  I  have  done  with  ad- 
vice.   I  know  what  I  have  before  me." 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  the  knights  entered.  It  was 
now  nearly  five ;  and  unless  there  were  lights  the  room 
must  have  been  almost  dark.  Beyond  the  archbishop's 
chamber  was  an  ante-room,  beyond  the  ante-room  the  hall. 
The  knights,  passing  through  the  hall  into  the  quadrangle, 
and  thence  to  the  lodge,  called  their  men  to  arms.  The 
great  gate  was  closed.  A  mounted  guard  was  stationed 
outside  with  orders  to  allow  no  one  to  go  out  or  in.  The 


110 


Life  and  Times  of 


knights  threw  off  their  cloaks  and  buckled  on  their  swords. 
This  was  the  work  of  a  few  minutes.  From  the  cathedral 
tower  the  vesper  bell  was  beginning  to  sound.  The  arch- 
bishop had  seated  himself  to  recover  from  the  agitation  of 
the  preceding  scene,  when  a  breathless  monk  rushed  in  to 
say  that  the  knights  were  arming.  "  Who  cares  ?  Let 
them  arm,"  was  all  that  the  archbishop  said.  His  clergy- 
were  less  indifferent.  If  the  archbishop  was  ready  for 
death  they  were  not.  The  door  from  the  hall  into  the 
court  was  closed  and  barred,  and  a  short  respite  was  thus 
secured.  The  intention  of  the  knights,  it  may  be  pre- 
sumed, was  to  seize  the  archbishop  and  carry  him  off  to 
Salt-wood,  or  to  De  Morville's  castle  at  Knaresborough,  or 
perhaps  to  Normandy.  Coming  back  to  execute  their  pur- 
pose, they  found  themselves  stopped  by  the  hall  door.  To 
burst  it  open  would  require  time  ;  the  ante-room  between 
the  hall  and  the  archbishop's  apartments  opened  by  an  oriel 
window  and  an  outside  stair  into  a  garden.  Robert  de 
Broc,  who  knew  the  house  well,  led  the  way  to  it  in  the 
dark.  The  steps  were  broken,  but  a  ladder  was  standing 
against  the  window,  by  which  the  knights  mounted,  and 
the  crash  of  the  falling  casement  told  the  fluttered  group 
about  tlie  archbishop  that  their  enemies  were  upon  them. 
There  was  still  a  moment.  The  party  who  entered  by  the 
window,  instead  of  turning  into  the  archbishop's  room,  first 
went  into  the  hall  to  open  the  door  and  admit  their  com- 
rades. From  the  archbishop's  room  a  second  passage,  little 
used,  opened  into  the  noi-thwest  corner  of  the  cloister,  and 
from  the  cloister  there  was  a  way  into  the  north  transept  of 
the  cathedral.  The  cry  was,  To  the  church.  To  the 
church."    There  at  least  there  would  be  immediate  safety. 

The  archbishop  had  told  the  knights  that  they  would 
find  him  where  they  left  him.  He  did  not  choose  to  show 
fear,  or  he  was  afraid,  as  some  thought,  of  losing  his  martyr- 
dom. He  would  not  move.  The  bell  had  ceased.  They 
reminded  him  that  vespers  had  begun,  and  that  he  ought  to 


Thomas  Beeket. 


Ill 


be  in  the  cathedral.  Half  yielding,  half  resisting,  his  friends 
swept  him  down  the  passage  into  the  cloister.  His  cross 
had  been  forgotten  in  the  haste.  He  refused  to  stir  till  it 
was  fetched  and  carried  before  him  as  usual'.  Then  only, 
himself  incapable  of  fear,  and  rebuking  the  terror  of  the 
rest,  he  advanced  deliberately  to  the  door  into  the  south 
transept.^  His  train  was  scattered  behind  him,  all  along 
the  cloister  from  the  passage  leading  out  of  the  palace.  As 
he  entered  the  church  cries  were  heard  from  which  it  be- 
came plain  that  the  knights  had  broken  into  the  arch- 
bishop's room,  had  found  the  passage,  and  were  following 
him.  Alrnost  immediately  Fitzurse,  Tracy,  De  Morville, 
and  Le  Breton  were  discerned,  in  the  dim  light,  coming 
through  the  cloister  in  their  armor,  with  drawn  swords,  and 
axes  in  their  left  hands.  A  company  of  men-at-arms  was 
behind  them.  In  front  they  were  driving  before  them  a 
frightened  flock  of  monks. 

From  the  middle  of  the  transept  in  which  the  arclibishop 
was  standing  a  single  pillar  rose  into  the  roof  On  the 
eastern  side  of  it  opened  a  chapel  of  St.  Benedict,  in  which 
were  the  tombs  of  several  of  the  old  primates.  On  the 
w^est,  running,  of  course,  parallel  to  the  nave,  was  a  lady 
chapel.  Behind  the  pillar  steps  led  up  into  the  choir, 
where  voices  were  already  singing  vespers.  A  faint  light 
may  have  been  reflected  into  the  transept  from  tlie  choir 
tapers,  and  candles  may  perhaps  have  been  burning  before 
the  altars  in  the  two  chapels  — of  light  from  without  through 
the  windows  at  that  hour  there  could  have  been  none.  See- 
incr  the  knights  comino-  on,  the  clerirv  who  had  entered  with 
the  archbishop  closed  the  door  and  barred  it.    "  What  do 

1  Those  who  desire  a  more  particular  account  of  the  scene  about  to  be 
described  should  refer  to  Dean  Stanley's  essay  on  the  mui'der  of  Becket, 
which  is  printed  in  his  Antiquities  of  Canterbury.  Alon,^  with  an  exact 
knowledge  of  the  localities  and  a  minute  acquaintance  Avith  the  contempo- 
rary narratives,  Dr.  Stanley  combines  the  far  more  rare  power  of  histor- 
ical imagination,  which  enables  him  to  replace  out  of  his  materials  an  ex- 
act picture  of  what  took  place. 


112 


Life  and  Times  of 


you  fear?"  he  cried  in  a  clear,  loud  voice.  "Out  of  the 
way,  you  cowards !  The  Church  of  God  must  not  be  made 
a  fortress."  He  stepped  back  and  reopened  the  door  with 
his  own  hands,  to  let  in  the  trembling  wretches  who  had 
been  shut  out  among  the  wolves.  They  rushed  past  him,  and 
scattered  in  the  hiding-places  of  the  vast  sanctury,  in  the 
crypt,  in  the  galleries,  or  behind  the  tombs.  All,  or  almost 
all,  even  of  his  closest  friends,  William  of  Canterbury,  Ben- 
edict, John  of  Salisbury  himself  forsook  him  to  shift  for 
themselves,  admitting  frankly  that  they  were  unworthy  of 
martyrdom.  The  archbishop  was  left  alone  with  his  chap- 
lain Fitzstephen,  Robert  of  Merton  his  old  master,  and  Ed- 
ward Grim,  the  stranger  from  Cambridge  —  or  perhaps  with 
Grim  only,  who  says  that  he  was  the  only  one  who  stayed, 
and  was  the  only  oue  certainly  who  showed  any  sign  of  cour- 
age. A  cry  had  been  raised  in  the  choir  that  armed  men 
were  breaking  into  the  cathedral.  The  vespers  ceased ;  the 
few  monks  assembled  left  their  seats  and  rushed  to  the  edge 
of  the  transept,  looking  wildly  into  the  darkness. 

The  archbishop  was  on  the  fourth  step  beyond  the  central 
pillar  ascending  into  the  choir  when  the  knights  came  in. 
The  outline  of  his  figure  may  have  been  just  visible  to 
them,  if  light  fell  upon  it  from  caudles  in  the  lady  chapel. 
Fitzurse  passed  to  the  right  of  the  pillar,  De  Morville, 
Tracy,  and  Le  Breton  to  the  left.  Robert  de  Broc  and 
Hugh  Mauclerc,  another  apostate  priest,  remained  at  the 
door  by  which  they  entered.  A  voice  cried,  ''Where  is  the 
traitor?  Where  is  Thomas  Becket  ?  "  There  was  silence; 
such  a  name  could  not  be  acknowledged.  "  Where  is  the 
archbishop?"  Fitzurse  shouted.  "I  am  here,"  the  arch- 
bishop replied,  descending  the  steps,  and  meeting  the  knights 
full  in  the  face.  "  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  I  am 
not  afraid  of  your  swords.  I  will  not  do  what  is  unjust." 
The  knights  closed  round  bim.  "Absolve  the  persons 
whom  you  have  excommunicated,"  they  said,  "  and  take  off 
the  suspensions."    "  They  have  made  no  satisfaction,"  he 


Thomas  Becket, 


113 


answered  ;  "  I  will  not."  "  Then  you  shall  die  as  you  have 
deserved,"  they  said. 

They  had  not  meant  to  kill  him  —  certainly  not  at  that 
time  and  in  that  place.  One  of  them  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  and  hissed  in  his  ears, 
"  Fly,  or  you  are  a  dead  man."  There  was  still  time ;  with 
a  few  steps  he  would  have  been  lost  in  the  gloom  of  the 
cathedral,  and  could  have  concealed  him  in  any  one  of  a 
hundred  hiding-places.  But  he  was  careless  of  life,  and  he 
felt  that  his  time  was  come.  "  I  am  ready  to  die,"  he  said. 
"  May  the  Church  through  my  blood  obtain  peace  and 
liberty !  I  charge  you  in  the  name  of  God  that  you  hurt 
no  one  here  but  me.  The  people  from  the  town  were  now 
pouring  into  the  cathedral ;  De  Morville  was  keeping  them 
back  with  difficulty  at  the  head  of  the  steps  from  the  choir, 
and  there  was  danger  of  a  rescue.  Fitzurse  seized  him, 
meaning  to  drag  him  off  as  a  prisoner.  He  had  been  calm 
so  far ;  his  pride  rose  at  the  indignity  of  an  arrest.  "  Touch 
me  not,  thou  abominable  wretch  ! "  he  said,  wrenching  his 
cloak  out  of  Fitzui'se's  grasp.  "  Off,  thou  pander,  thou  !  "  ^ 
Le  Breton  and  Fitzurse  grasped  him  again,  and  tried  to 
force  him  upon  Tracy's  back.  He  gra^^jiled  with  Tracy  and 
flung  him  to  the  ground,  and  then  stood  with  his  back 
against  the  pillar,  Edward  Grim  supporting  him.  Fitzurse, 
stung  by  the  foul  epithet  which  Becket  had  thrown  at  him, 
swept  his  sword  over  him  and  dashed  off  his  cap.  Tracy, 
rising  from  the  pavement,  struck  direct  at  his  head.  Grim 
raised  his  arm  and  caught  the  blow.  The  arm  fell  broken, 
and  the  one  friend  found  faithful  sank  back  disabled  against 
the  wall.  The  sword,  with  its  remaining  force,  wounded 
the  archbishop  above  the  forehead,  and  the  blood  trickled 
down  his  face.  Standing  firmly,  with  his  hands  clasped,  he 
bent  his  neck  for  the  death-stroke,  saying  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  am  prepared  to  die  for  Christ  and  for  His  Church." 

1  "Lenonem  appellans."  In  extreme  moments  Becket  was  never  able 
to  maintain  his  dignity. 

8 


114 


Life  and  Times  of 


These  were  his  last  words.  Tracy  again  struck  him.  He 
fell  forward  upon  his  knees  and  hands.  In  that  position 
Le  Breton  dealt  him  a  blow  which  severed  the  scalp  from 
the  head  and  broke  the  sword  against  the  stone,  saying, 
''Take  that  for  my  Lord  William."  De  Broc  or  Mauclerc 
—  the  needless  ferocity  was  attributed  to  both  of  them  — 
strode  forward  from  the  cloister  door,  set  his  foot  on  the 
neck  of  the  dead  lion,  and  spread  the  brains  upon  the  pave- 
ment with  his  sword's  point.  "We  may  go,"  he  said;  "the 
traitor  is  dead,  and  will  trouble  us  no  more." 

Such  was  the  murder  of  Becket,  the  echoes  of  which  are 
still  heard  across  seven  centuries  of  time,  and  which,  be  the 
final  judgment  upon  it  what  it  may,  has  its  place  among  the 
most  endurhig  incidents  of  English  history.  Was  Becket 
a  martyr,  or  was  he  justly  executed  as  a  traitor  to  his  sover- 
eign ?  Even  in  that  supreme  moment  of  terror  and  won- 
der, opinions  were  divided  among  his  own  monks.  That 
very  night  Grim  heard  one  of  them  say,  "  He  is  no  martyr, 
he  is  justly  served."  Another  said,  scarcely  feeling,  per- 
haps, the  meaning  of  the  words,  "  He  wished  to  be  king 
and  more  than  king.  Let  him  be  king,  let  him  be  king." 
Whether  the  cause  for  which  he  died  was  to  prevail,  or 
whether  the  sacrifice  had  been  in  vain,  hung  on  the  answer 
which  would  be  given  to  this  momentous  question.  In  a 
few  days  or  weeks  an  answer  came  in  a  form  to  which  in 
that  age  no  rejoinder  was  possible,  and  the  only  uncertainty 
which  remained  at  Canterbury  was  whether  it  was  lawful 
to  use  the  ordinary  prayers  for  the  repose  of  the  dead  man's 
soul,  or  whether,  in  consequence  of  the  astounding  miracles 
which  were  instantly  worked  by  his  remains,  the  pope's 
judgment  ought  not  to  be  anticipated,  and  the  archbishop 
ought  not  to  be  at  once  adored  as  a  saint  in  heaven. 


Thomas  Becket. 


115 


CHAPTER  XL 

Martyr  for  the  Church  of  Christ,  or  turbulent  incen- 
diary justly  punished  for  his  madness  or  presumption  ? 
That  was  the  alternative  which  lay  before  the  judgment  of 
the  Christian  world.  On  the  response  which  would  be 
given  depended  interests  which  stretched  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  Becket's  own  island  home.  How  vast  were  the 
issues,  how  possible  was  an  unfavorable  conclusion,  may  be 
seen  in  the  passionate  language  in  which  Benedict  of  Can- 
terbury describes  the  general  feeling,  and  relates  the  influ- 
ences by  which  alone  the  popular  verdict  was  decided  in 
the  archbishop's  favor. 

Our  crowned  head  was  taken  from  us,  the  glory  of  angels  and 
of  Angles.  We  were  orphans  who  had  lost  their  father.  The 
mother  Cliurch  was  desolate,  and  her  children  were  not  lament- 
ing. She  sought  for  some  to  comfort  her,  yet  found  she  none. 
She  was  weeping,  and  her  children  were  glad.  Our  own  noble 
monastery  was  speechless,  and  cruel  mockers  said  it  was  well 
done.  The  brethren  mingled  their  bread  with  tears,  but  they 
kept  silence.  Had  not  light  risen  upon  us  from  on  high,  we 
had  been  lost  forever.  Praised  be  He  who  looked  upon  us  in 
the  day  of  our  affliction!  All  generations  shall  now  call  us 
blessed.  When  the  martyr  was  slain  our  young  men  saw 
visions,  our  old  men  dreamed  dreams;  and  then  came  the  mira- 
cles, and  we  knew  that  God  had  exalted  the  horn  of  his  anointed 
one. 

The  sheep  were  scattered:  the  hirelings  had  fled.  There  had 
not  been  found  a  man  who  would  stand  beside  the  lord  of  Can- 
terbury against  the  workers  of  iniquity.  The  second  part  of 
Christendom  had  gone  astray  after  the  idol  Baal,  the  apostate, 
the  antipope.  Who  can  say  what  the  end  might  not  have 
been?     In  the  blood  of  the  martyr  of  Canterbury  the  Most 


116 


Life  and  Times  of 


High  provided  an  expiation  for  the  sins  of  the  world.  The 
darkness  passed  away  before  the  splendor  of  the  mh-acles.  The 
seed  of  the  word  sprang  up.  Unnumbered  sinners  are  con- 
verted daily,  and  beat  their  breasts  and  turn  back  into  the  fold. 
Our  anointed  Gideon  had  his  lamp  in  a  pitcher  :  the  clay  of 
the  earthly  body  was  broken,  and  light  shone  out.  The  schis- 
matic Octavian  was  at  once  condemned,  and  Pope  Alexander 
was  established  in  Peter's  chair.  If  Alexander  had  not  been 
our  true  father,  the  martyr  who  adhered  to  him  would  have 
been  defiled  by  the  pitch  which  he  had  touched.  His  miracles 
prove  that  he  had  not  been  defiled.  No  man  could  do  such 
wonders  unless  God  was  with  him. 

And  as  he  died  for  the  Universal  Church,  so  especially  he 
died  for  the  Church  of  Canterbury.  Let  his  successor  not  aban- 
don the  rights  which  our  holy  martyr  defended.  Let  him  not 
despise  the  law  of  the  Church,  or  depart  from  obedience  to  Pope 
Alexander.  Let  his  holiness  be  glad  that  in  these  last  times, 
and  in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  he  has  found  such  a  son.  Let  the 
children  of  Canterbury  rejoice  that  the  consolation  of  such 
miracles  has  been  vouchsafed  to  them.  Let  the  whole  earth 
exult,  and  they  that  dwell  therein.  On  those  who  walked  in 
darkness  the  light  has  shined.  The  fearful  shepherds  have 
learned  boldness;  the  sick  are  healed;  the  repenting  sinner  is 
forgiven.  Through  the  merits  of  our  blessed  martyr  the  blind 
see,  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the 
dead  are  raised  up,  the  poor  have  the  Gospel  preached  to  them. 
In  him  all  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel  are  repeated,  and  find  their 
full  completion.  Four  times  the  lamps  about  his  tomb  have 
been  kindled  by  invisible  hands.  An  innocent  man  who  was 
mutilated  by  the  executioner  called  on  the  martyr  for  help  and 
is  restored  :  new  eyes  and  new  members  have  been  granted  to 
him.  Never  anywhere,  so  soon  after  death  and  in  so  brief  a 
time,  has  saint  been  made  illustrious  by  so  many  and  so  mighty 
tokens  of  God's  favor.^ 

Miracles  come  when  they  are  needed.    They  come  not 
of  fraud,  but  they  come  of  an  impassioned  credulity  which 
creates  what  it  is  determined  to  find.    Given  an  enthusiastic 
desire  that  God  should  miraculously  manifest  Himself,  the 
1  Materials,  vol.  ii.  p.  21  (abridged). 


Thomas  Becket. 


117 


religious  imagination  is  never  long  at  a  loss  for  facts  to 
prove  that  He  has  done  so ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  interests  at  stake  is  the  scale  of  the  miraculous 
interposition.  In  the  eyes  of  Europe,  the  cause  in  which 
Becket  fell  was  the  cause  of  sacerdotalism  as  against  the 
prosaic  virtues  of  justice  and  common  sense.  Every  super- 
stitious mind  in  Christendom  was  at  work  immediately,  gen- 
erating supernatural  evidence  which  should  be  universal 
and  overwhelming.  Wlien  once  the  impression  was  started 
that  Becket's  relics  were  working  miracles,  it  spread  like 
an  epidemic.  Either  the  laws  of  nature  were  suspended,  or 
for  the  four  years  which  followed  his  death  the  power  and 
the  wish  were  gone  to  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood. 
The  most  ordinary  events  were  transfigured.  That  version 
of  any  story  was  held  to  be  the  truest  which  gave  most 
honor  to  the  martyr.  That  was  the  falsest  which  seemed 
to  detract  from  his  glory.  As  Becket  in  his  life  had  repre- 
sented the  ambition  and  arrogance  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
and  not  its  genuine  excellence,  so  it  was  his  fate  in  death  to 
represent  beyond  all  others  the  false  side  of  Catholic  teach- 
ing, and  to  gather  round  himself  the  most  amazing  agglom- 
erate of  lies. 

The  stream  which  was  so  soon  to  roll  in  so  mighty  a 
volume  rose  first  in  the  humble  breast  of  Benedict  the 
monk.  After  the  murder  the  body  was  lifted  by  the 
tremblhig  brotherhood  from. the  spot  where  it  had  fallen, 
and  was  laid  for  the  night  in  front  of  the  high  altar.  The 
monks  then  sought  their  pallets  with  one  thought  in  the 
minds  of  all  of  them.  Was  the  archbishop  a  saint,  or  was 
he  a  vain  dreamer  ?  God  only  could  decide.  Asleep  or 
awake  —  he  was  unable  to  say  which  —  Benedict  conceived 
that  he  saw  the  archbishop  going  towards  the  altar  in  his 
robes,  as  if  to  say  mass.  He  approached  him  trembling. 
"My  lord,"  he  supposed  himself  to  have  said,  "are  you 
not  dead  ?  "  The  archbishop  answered,  "  I  was  dead,  but  I 
have  risen  again."    "  If  you  are  risen,  and,  as  we  believe,  a 


118 


Life  and  Times  of 


martyr,"  Benedict  said,  "  will  you  not  manifest  yourself  to 
the  world?*'  The  archbishop  showed  Benedict  a  lantern 
with  a  candle  dimly  burning  in  it.  "  I  bear  a  light,"  he 
said,  "  but  a  cloud  at  present  conceals  it."  He  then  seemed 
to  ascend  the  altar  steps.  The  monks  in  the  choir  began 
the  introit.  The  archbishop  took  the  word  from  them,  and 
in  a  rich,  full  voice  poured  out,  "  Arise,  why  sleepest  thou, 
O  Lord  ?    Arise,  and  cast  us  not  forth  forever." 

Benedict  was  dreaming ;  but  the  dream  was  converted 
into  instant  reality.  The  word  went  round  the  dormitory 
that  the  archbishop  had  risen  from  the  dead  and  had  ap- 
peared to  Benedict.  The  monks,  scarcely  knowing  whether 
they  too  were  awake  or  entranced,  flitted  into  the  cathedral 
to  gaze  on  the  mysterious  form  before  the  altar.  In  the 
dim  winter  dawn  the}'"  imagined  they  saw  the  dead  man's 
arm  raised  as  if  to  bless  theiji.  The  candles  had  burnt  out. 
Some  one  placed  new  candles  in  the  sockets  and  lighted 
them.  Those  who  did  not  know  whose  hand  had  done  it 
concluded  that  it  was  an  angel's.  Contradiction  was  un- 
heard or  unbelieved  ;  at  such  a  moment  incredulity  was 
impious.  Rumors  flew  abroad  that  miracles  had  already 
begun,  and  when  the  cathedral  doors  were  opened  the 
townspeople  flocked  in  to  adore.  They  rushed  to  the  scene 
of  the  murder.  They  dipped  their  handkerchiefs  in  the 
sacred  stream  which  lay  moist  upon  the  stones.  A  woman 
whose  sight  had  been  weak  from  some  long  disease  touched 
her  eyes  with  the  blood,  and  cried  aloud  that  she  could 
again  see  clearly.  Along  with  the  tale  of  the  crime  there 
spread  into  the  country,  gathering  volume  as  it  rolled,  the 
story  of  the  wonders  which  had  begun  ;  and  every  pious 
heart  which  had  beat  for  the  archbishop  when  he  was  alive 
was  set  bounding  with  delighted  enthusiasm.  A  lady  in 
Sussex  heard  of  the  miracle  with  the  woman.  Her  sight, 
too,  was  failing.  Divinitus  inspirata,  under  a  divine  in- 
spiration, which  anticipated  the  judgment  of  the  Church, 
she  prayed  to  the  blessed  martyr  St.  Thomas,  and  was  in- 


Thomas  Beclcet. 


119 


stantly  restored.  Two  days  later  a  man  at  Canterbury  who 
was  actually  blind  recovered  his  sight.  The  brothers  at  the 
cathedral  whose  faith  had  been  weak  were  supernaturally 
strengthened.  The  last  doubter  among  them  was  converted 
by  a  vision. 

In  the  outside  world  there  were  those  who  said  that  the 
miracles  were  delusion  or  enchantment;  but  with  the  scoffs 
came  tales  of  the  retribution  which  instantly  overtook  the 
scoffers.  A  priest  at  Nantes  was  heard  to  say  that  if  strange 
things  had  happened  at  Canterbury  the  cause  could  not  be 
the  merits  of  the  archbishop,  for  God  would  not  work  mira- 
cles for  a  traitor.  As  "the  man  of  Belial"  uttered  his 
blasphemies  his  eyes  dropped  from  their  sockets,  and  he 
fell  to  the  ground  foaming  at  the  mouth.  His  compan- 
ions carried  him  into  a  church,  replaced  the  eyeballs,  and 
sprinkled  them  with  holy  water,  and  prayed  to  St.  Thomas 
for  pardon.  St.  Thomas  was  slowly  appeased,  and  the 
priest  recovered,  to  be  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man. 

Sir  Thomas  of  Ecton  had  known  Becket  in  early  youth, 
and  refused  to  believe  that  a  profligate  scoundrel  could  be  a 
saint. Sir  Thomas  was  seized  with  a  quinsy  which  almost 
killed  him,  and  only  saved  his  life  by  instant  repentance. 

In  vain  the  De  Brocs  and  their  friends  attempted  to  stem 
the  torrent  by  threatening  to  drag  the  body  through  the 
streets,  to  cut  it  in  pieces,  and  fling  it  into  a  cesspool.  The 
mob  of  Kent  would  have  risen  in  arms,  and  burnt  their 
castle  over  their  heads,  had  they  dared  to  touch  so  precious 
a  possession.  The  archbishop  was  laid  in  a  marble  sarcoph- 
agus before  the  altar  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  in  the  crypt. 
The  brain  which  De  Broc's  rude  sword  had  spread  out  was 
gathered  up  by  reverent  hands,  the  blood  stains  were  scraped 
off  the  stones,  and  the  precious  relics  were  placed  on  the 
stone  lid  where  they  could  be  seen  by  the  faithful.  When 
the  body  was  stripped  for  burial,  on  the  back  were  seen  the 

1  "  Martyrem  libidinosi  et  nebulonis  elogio  notans."  — William  of  Can- 
terbury. Materuils,  vol.  i. 


120 


Life  and  Times  of 


marks  of  the  stripes  which  he  had  received  on  the  morning 
of  his  death.  The  hair  shirt  and  drawers  were  found 
swarming  (scaturientes)  with  vermin.  These  transcendent 
evidences  of  sanctity  were  laid  beside  the  other  treasures, 
and  a  wall  was  built  round  the  tomb  to  protect  it  from 
profanation,  with  openings  through  which  the  sick  and  « 
maimed,  who  now  came  in  daily  crowds  for  the  martyr's 
help,  could  gaze  and  be  healed. 

Now  came  the  more  awful  question.  The  new  saint  was 
jealous  of  his  honor:  was  it  safe  to  withold  his  title  from 
him  till  the  pope  had  spoken?  He  had  shown  himself 
alive  —  was  it  permitted  to  pray  for  him  as  if  he  were  dead? 
Throughout  England  the  souls  of  the  brethren  were  exer- 
cised  by  this  dangerous  uncertainty.  In  some  places  the 
question  was  settled  in  the  saint's  favor  by  an  opportune 
dream.  At  Canterbury  itself  more  caution  was  necessary, 
and  John  of  Salisbury  wrote  to  the  Bishop  of  Poitiers  for 
advice  : 

The  blind  see  (he  said),  the  deaf  hear,  the  dumb  speak,  the 
lame  walk,  the  devils  are  cast  out.  To  pray  for  the  soul  of  one 
■whom  God  had  distinguished  by  miracles  so  illustrious  is  injuri- 
ous to  him,  and  bears  a  show  of  unbelief.  We  should  have 
sent  to  consult  the  pope,  but  the  passages  are  stopped,  and  no 
one  can  leave  the  harbors  without  a  passport  For  ourselves, 
we  have  concluded  that  we  ourjht  to  recognize  the  will  of  God 
without  waiting  for  the  holy  father's  sanction. ^ 

The  pope's  ultimate  resolution  it  was  impossible  to  doubt. 
The  party  of  the  antipope  in  England  had  been  put  an  end 
to  by  the  miracles.  Many  people  had  begun  to  waver  in 
their  allegiance,  and  now  all  uncertainty  was  gone.  It  was 
universally  admitted  that  these  wonders  displayed  in  favor 
of  a  person  who  had  been  on  Alexander's  side  conclusively 

1  John  of  Salisbury  to  the  Bishop  of  Poitiers.  Letters,  vol.  ii-  pp.  257, 
258  (abridged).  How  John  of  Salisbur}'  was  able  to  write  both  to  the 
Bishop  of  Poitiers  and  to  the  Archbishop  of  Sens,  if  he  was  unable  to  write 
to  Rome  because  the  passages  were  stopped,  does  not  appear. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


121 


decided  the  question.^  Alexander  would  do  well,  however, 
John  of  Salisbury  thought,  to  pronounce  the  canonization 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible 

The  epidemic  was  still  in  its  inflmcy.  The  miracles  al- 
ready mentioned  had  been  worked  in  comparative  privacy 
in  the  first  few  weeks  which  succeeded  the  martyrdom.  Be- 
fore the  summer  the  archbishop's  admirers  were  contending 
with  each  other  in  every  part  of  Europe  which  could  report 
the  most  amazing  miracles  that  had  been  worked  by  his 
intervention  or  by  the  use  of  his  name.  Pilgrims  began  to 
stream  to  Canterbury  with  their  tales  of  marvel  and  their 
rich  thankso^ivinor  ofFerincfs.  A  committee  of  monks  was 
appointed  to  examine  each  story  in  detail.  Their  duty  was 
to  assure  themselves  that  the  alleged  miracle  was  reality 
and  not  imagination.  Yet  thousands  were  allowed  to  pass 
as  adequately  and  clearly  proved.  Every  day  under  their 
own  eyes  the  laws  of  nature  were  set  aside.  The  aperture 
in  the  wall  round  the  tomb  contracted  or  enlarged  according 
to  the  merit  of  the  visitants.  A  small  and  delicate  woman 
could  not  pass  so  much  as  her  head  through  it  to  look  at 
the  relics.  She  was  found  to  be  living  in  sin.  A  monster 
of  a  man  possessed  by  a  devil,  but  honestly  desirous  of  sal- 
vation, plunged  through,  body  and  all.  The  spectators 
(Benedict  among  them,  who  tells  the  story)  supposed  it 
would  be  necessary  to  pull  the  wall  down  to  get  him  free. 
He  passed  out  with  the  same  ease  with  which  he  had 
entered.  But  when  the  monks  told  him  to  repeat  the  ex- 
periment, stone  and  mortar  had  resumed  their  properties. 

The  blood  gathered  on  the  handkerchiefs  from  the  pave- 
ment had  shown  powers  so  extraordinary  that  there  was  a 
universal  demand  for  it.  The  difficulty  from  the  limitation 
of  quantity  was  got  over  in  various  ways.    At  first  it  ex- 

1  "Dubitatur  a  plurimis  an  pars  clomini  papae  in  qua  stamiis  de  justitia 
niteretur,  sed  earn  a  crimine  gloriosus  martyr  absolvit,  qui  si  fautor  erat 
schisniatis  nequaquam  tantis  niiraculis  coruscaret" — To  the  Archbishop 
of  Sens.    Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  263. 


122 


Life  and  Times  of 


hibited  a  capacity  for  self-multiplication.  A  siugle  drop 
might  be  poured  into  a  bottle,  and  the  bottle  would  be 
found  full.  Afterwards  a  miraculous  fountain  broke  out  in 
the  crypt,  with  the  water  from  which  the  blood  was  mixed. 
The  smallest  globule  of  blood,  fined  down  by  successive 
recombinations  to  a  fraction  of  unimaginable  minuteness, 
imparted  to  the  water  the  virtues  of  the  perfect  original. 
St.  Thomas's  water  became  the  favorite  remedy  for  all  dis- 
eases throughout  the  Christian  world,  the  sole  condition  of 
a  cure  being  that  doctor's  medicines  should  be  abjured.  The 
behavior  of  the  liquid,  as  described  by  Benedict,  who  re- 
lates what  he  professes  to  have  continually  seen,  was  eccen- 
tric and  at  first  incomprehensible.  A  monk  at  the  fountain 
distributed  it  to  the  pilgrims,  who  brought  wooden  boxes 
in  which  to  carry  it  away.  When  poured  into  these  boxes 
it  would  sometimes  effervesce  or  boil.  More  often  the  box 
would  split  in  the  pilgrim's  hand.  Some  sin  unconfessed  was 
supposed  to  be  the  cause,  and  the  box  itself,  after  such  a 
misfortune,  was  left  as  an  offering  at  the  tomb.  The  split- 
tins:  action  after  a  time  ^I'ew  less  violent,  and  was  confined 
to  a  light  crack.  One  day  a  woman  brought  a  box  which 
became  thus  slightly  injured.  The  monk  to  whom  she  gave 
it  thouo-ht  it  was  too  ofood  to  be  wasted,  and  was  meditatinor 
in  his  own  mind  that  he  would  keep  it  for  himself.  At  the 
moment  that  the  wicked  thought  formed  itself  the  box  flew 
to  pieces  in  his  hands  with  a  loud  crash.  He  dropped  it, 
shrieking  that  it  was  possessed.  Benedict  and  others  ran 
in,  hearing  him  cry,  to  find  him  in  an  agony  of  terror.  The 
amusement  with  w^hich  Benedict  admits  that  they  listened 
to  his  story  suggests  a  suspicion  that  in  this  instance  at  least 
the  incident  was  not  wholly  supernatural.'^  Finding  boxes 
liable  to  these  misfortunes,  the  pilgrims  next  tried  stone 
bottles,  but  with  no  better  success  —  the  stone  cracked  like 
the  wood.  A  youth  at  Canterbury  suggested  tin  ;  the  burst- 

1  "  Hoc  miraculuni  tam  joco  et  risui  raultis  extitit  quam  admirationi." 
—  Materials^  vol.  ii. 


Thomas  Beclcet. 


123 


>  ing  miracle  ceased,  and  the  meaning  of  it  was  then  per- 
ceived. The  pilgrims  were  intended  to  carry  St.  Thomas's 
water  ronnd  the  world,  hung  about  their  necks  in  bottles 
which  could  be  at  once  secure  and  sufficiently  diminutive  for 
transport.  A  vessel  that  could  be  relied  on  being  thus 
obtained,  the  trade  became  enormous.  Though  the  holy 
thing  might  not  be  sold,  the  recipient  of  the  gift  expressed 
his  gratitude  by  corresponding  presents;  and  no  diamond 
mine  ever  brought  more  wealth  to  its  owners  than  St. 
Thomas's  water  brought  to  the  monks  of  Canterbury. 

As  time  went  on  the  miracles  grew  more  and  more  pro- 
digious. At  first  weak  eyes  were  made  strong ;  then  sight 
was  restored  which  was  wholly  gone.  At  first  sick  men 
were  made  whole  ;  then  dead  men  were  brought  back  to 
life.  At  first  there  was  the  unconscious  exaggeration  of 
real  phenomena ;  then  there  was  incautious  embellishment. 
Finally,  in  some  instances  of  course  with  the  best  inten- 
tions, there  was  perhaps  deliberate  lying.  To  which  of 
these  classes  the  story  should  be  assigned  which  has  now 
to  be  told  the  reader  must  decide  for  himself.  No  miracle 
in  sacred  liistory  is  apparently  better  attested.  The  more 
complete  the  evidence,  the  more  the  choice  is  narrowed  to 
the  alternative  between  a  real  supernatural  occurrence  and 
an  intentional  fraud. 

In  the  year  which  followed  Becket's  death  there  lived 
near  Bedford  a  small  farmer  named  Aylward.  This  Ayl- 
ward,  unable  to  recover  otherwise  a  debt  from  one  of  his 
neighbors,  broke  into  his  debtor's  house,  and  took  posses- 
sion of  certain  small  articles  of  furniture  to  hold  as  security. 
The  debtor  pursued  him,  wounded  him  in  a  scuffle,  and  car- 
ried him  before  the  head  constable  of  the  district,  who 
happened  to  be  Aylward's  personal  enemy.  A  charge  of 
burglary  was  brought  against  him,  with  the  constable's  sup- 
port. Aylward  was  taken  before  the  sheriff,  Sir  Richard 
Fitzosbert,  and  committed  to  Bedford  Gaol  to  await  his 
trial.    The  gaol  chaplain  in  the  interval  took  charge  of  his 


124 


Life  and  Times  of 


soul,  gave  him  a  whip  with  which  to  flog  himself  five  times  a 
day,  and  advised  him  to  consign  his  cause  to  the  Virgin, 
and  especially  to  the  martyr  Thomas.  At  the  end  of  a 
month  he  was  brought  before  the  justices  at  Leigh  ton  Buz- 
zard. The  constable  appeared  to  prosecute ;  and  his  own 
story  not  being  received  as  true,  he  applied  for  wager  of 
battle  with  his  accuser,  or  else  for  the  ordeal  of  hot  iron. 
Through  underhand  influence  the  judges  refused  either  of 
these  comparatively  favorable  alternatives,  and  sentenced 
the  prisoner  to  the  ordeal  of  water,  which  meant  death  by 
drowning  or  else  dismemberment.  The  law  of  the  Con- 
queror was  still  in  force.  The  penalty  of  felony  was  not 
the  axe  or  the  gallows,  but  mutilation  ;  and  the  water  ordeal 
being  over,  which  was  merely  a  form,  Aylward,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  large  number  of  clergy  and  laity,  was  delivered 
to  the  knife.  He  bled  so  much  that  he  was  supposed  to  be 
dying,  and  he  received  the  last  sacrament.  A  compassionate 
neighbor,  however,  took  him  into  his  house,  and  attended 
to  his  wounds,  which  began  slowly  to  heal.  On  the  tenth 
night  St.  Thomas  came  to  his  bedside,  made  a  cross  on  his 
forehead,  and  told  him  that  if  he  presented  himself  the  next 
day  with  a  candle  at  the  altar  of  the  Virgin  in  Bedford 
Church,  and  did  not  doubt  in  his  heart,  but  believed  that 
God  was  able  and  willing  to  cure  him,  his  eyes  would  be 
restored.  In  the  morning  he  related  his  vision.  It  was 
reported  to  the  dean,  who  himself  accompanied  him  to  the 
altar,  the  townspeople  coming  in  crowds  to  witness  the  prom- 
ised miracle.  The  blinded  victim  of  injustice  and  false 
evidence  believed  as  he  was  directed,  and  prayed  as  he  was 
directed.  The  bandages  were  then  removed  from  the  empty 
eye  sockets,  and  in  the  hollows  two  small  glittering  spots 
were  seen,  the  size  of  the  eyes  of  a  small  bird,  with  which 
Aylward  pronounced  that  he  could  again  see.  He  set  off 
at  once  to  offer  his  thanks  to  his  preserver  at  Canterbury. 
The  rumor  of  the  miracle  had  preceded  him,  and  in  London 
he  was  detained  by  the  bishop  till  the  truth  had  been  in- 


Thomas  BecTcet. 


125 


quired  into.  The  result  was  a  deposition  signed  by  the 
Mayor  and  Corporation  of  Bedford,  declaring  that  they  had 
ascertained  the  completeness  of  the  mutilation  beyond  all 
possibility  of  doubt. 

Very  curiously,  precisely  the  same  miracle  was  repeated 
under  similar  conditions  three  years  later.  Some  cavil  had 
perhaps  been  raised  on  the  sufficiency  of  the  evidence.  The 
burgesses  of  a  country  town  were  not,  it  may  have  been 
thought,  men  of  sufficient  knowledge  and  education  to  be 
relied  upon  in  so  extraordinary  a  case.  The  very  ability 
of  a  saint  to  restore  parts  of  the  human  body  w  hich  had 
been  removed  may  have  been  privately  called  in  question, 
and  to  silence  incredulity  the  feat  was  performed  a  second 
time.  There  appeared  in  Canterbury  in  1176  a  youth 
named  Rogers,  bringing  with  him  a  letter  from  Hugh, 
Bishop  of  Durham,  to  the  prior  of  the  monastery.  The 
letter  stated  that  in  the  preceding  September  the  bearer 
had  been  convicted  of  theft,  and  had  been  mutilated  in  the 
usual  manner.  He  had  subsequently  begged  his  living  in 
the  Durham  streets,  and  was  well  known  to  every  one  in 
the  town  to  be  perfectly  blind.  In  this  condition  he  had 
prayed  to  St.  Thomas.  St.  Thomas  had  appeared  to  him 
in  a  red  gown,  with  a  mitre  on  his  head  and  three  wax 
candles  in  his  hand,  and  had  promised  him  restoration. 
From  that  moment  his  sight  began  to  return,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  could  discern  the  smallest  objects.  Though,  as  at 
Bedford,  the  eyes  were  modiccB  quantitatis,  exceedingly 
minute,  the  functions  were  perfect.  The  bishop,  to  leave 
no  room  for  mistake,  took  the  oaths  of  the  executioner  and 
the  witnesses  of  the  mutilation.  The  cathedral  bells  were 
rung,  and  thanksgiving  services  were  offered  to  God  and 
St.  Thomas. 

So  far  the  Bishop  of  Durham.  But  the  story  received  a 
further  confirmation  by  a  coincidence  scarcely  less  singular. 
When  the  subject  of  the  miracle  came  to  Canterbury,  the 
judge  who  had  tried  him  happened  to  be  on  a  visit  to  the 


126 


Life  and  Times  of 


monastery.  The  meeting  was  purely  accidental.  The 
judge  had  been  interested  in  the  boy,  and  had  closely  ob- 
served him.  He  was  able  to  swear  that  the  eyes  which  he 
then  saw  were  not  the  eyes  which  had  been  cut  out  by  the 
executioner  at  Durham,  being  different  from  them  in  form 
and  color.-^ 

When  the  minds  of  bishops  and  judges  were  thus  affected, 
we  cease  to  wonder  at  the  thousand  similar  stories  which 
passed  into  popular  belief.  Many  of  them  are  childish, 
many  grossly  ridiculous.  The  language  of  the  archbishop 
on  his  miraculous  appearances  was  not  like  his  own,  but  was 
the  evident  creation  of  the  visionary  who  was  the  occasion 
of  his  visit ;  and  his  actions  were  alternately  the  actions  of 
a  benevolent  angel  or  a  malignant  imp.  But  all  alike  were 
received  as  authentic,  and  served  to  swell  the  flood  of  illu- 
sion which  overspread  the  Christian  world.  For  four  years 
the  entire  supernatural  administration  of  the  Clnii-cli  econ- 
omy was  passed  over  to  St.  Thomas  ;  as  if  Heaven  designed 
to  vindicate  the  cause  of  the  martyr  of  Canterbury  by 
special  and  extraordinary  favor.  In  vain  during  those 
years  were  prayers  addressed  to  the  Blessed  Virgin ;  in 
vain  the  cripple  brought  his  offerings  to  shrines  where  a 
miracle  had  never  been  refused  before.  The  Virgin  and 
the  other  dispensers  of  divine  grace  had  been  suspended 
from  activity,  that  the  champion  of  the  Church  might  have 
the  glory  to  himself.  The  elder  saints  had  long  gone  to 
and  fro  on  errands  of  mercy.  They  were  now  allowed  to 
repose,  and  St.  Thomas  was  all  in  all.^ 

1  MateriaU,  vol.  i.  p.  423. 

2  William  of  Canterbury  mentions  the  case  of  a  man  in  distress  who 
prayed  without  effect  to  the  Virgin.  "Hujusmodi  prec  us,"  he  says, 
"  saepius  et  propensius  instabat;  similiter  et  aliorum  sanctorum  suffragia 
postulabat,  sed  ad  invocationem  sui  nominis  non  exaudierunt,  qui  retro 
tempora  sua  glorificationis  habuerunt,  ut  et  sua  tenipora  propitiationis 
martyr  modernus  haberet.  Pridem  cucurrerant  quantum  potuerunt  et 
quantum  debuerunt  signis  et  prodigiis  coruscantes :  nunc  tandem  erat  et 
novo  martyri  currendum,  ut  in  catalog©  sanctorum  mirificus  haberetur, 


Thomas  Becket, 


127 


Greater  for  a  time  than  the  Blessed  Virgin,  greater  than 
the  saints  !  —  nay,  another  superiority  was  assigned  to  him 
still  more  astounding.  The  sacrifice  of  St.  Thomas  was 
considered  to  be  wider  and  more  gracious  in  its  operation 
than  the  sacrifice  on  Calvary.  Foliot,  Bishop  of  London, 
so  long  his  great  antagonist,  was  taken  ill  a  few  years  after 
the  murder,  and  was  thought  to  be  dying.  He  was  speech- 
less. The  Bishop  of  Salisbury  sat  by  him,  endeavoring  to 
hear  his  confession  before  giving  him  the  sacrament.  The 
voice  was  choked,  the  lips  were  closed  ;  he  could  neither 
confess  his  sins  nor  swallow  his  viaticum,  and  nothing  lay 
before  him  but  inevitable  hell,  when,  by  a  happy  thought, 
sacrament  was  added  to  sacrament  —  the  wafer  was  sprin- 
kled with  the  water  of  St.  Thomas,  and  again  held  to  the 
mouth  of  the  dying  prelate.  Marvel  of  marvels!  the  tight- 
ened sinews  relaxed.  The  lips  unclosed  ;  the  tongue  re- 
sumed its  office  ;  and  when  all  ghostly  consolation  had  been 
duly  offered  and  duly  received,  Foliot  was  allowed  to  re- 
cover. 

"  O  martyr  full  of  mercy  ! "  exclaims  the  recorder  of  the 
miracle,  "blessedly  forgetful  art  thou  of  thy  own  injuries, 
who  didst  thus  give  to  drink  to  thy  disobedient  and  rebel- 
lious brother  of  the  fountain  of  Ihy  own  blood.  O  deed 
without  example  !  O  act  incomparable  !  Christ  gave  his 
flesh  and  blood  to  be  eaten  and  drunk  by  sinners.  St. 
Thomas,  who  imitated  Christ  in  his  passion,  imitates  Him 
also  in  the  sacrament.  But  there  is  this  difference,  that 
Christ  damns  those  who  eat  and  drink  Him  unworthily,  or 
takes  their  lives  from  them,  or  afflicts  them  with  diseases. 
The  blessed  Thomas,  doing  according  to  his  Master's  prom- 
ise greater  things  than  He,  and  being  more  full  of  mercy 
than  He,  gives  his  blood  to  his  enemies  as  well  as  to  his 
friends ;  and  not  only  does  not  damn  his  enemies,  but  calls 

Domino  dispensante  quae,  a  quibus,  et  quibus  temporibus  fieri  debeant. 
Eo  namque  currente  et  magna  spatia  transcurrente,  illis  tanquam  vetera- 
nis  et  emeritis  interim  debebatur  otium."  — Materials,  vol.  i.  p.  290. 


128 


Life  and  Times  of 


them  back  into  the  ways  of  peace.  All  men,  therefore,  may 
come  to  him  and  drink  without  fear,  and  they  shall  find  sal- 
vation, body  and  soul." ' 

The  details  of  the  miracles  contain  many  interesting  pict- 
ures of  old  English  life.  St.  Thomas  was  kind  to  persons 
drowned  or  drowning,  kind  to  prisoners,  especially  kind  to 
children.  He  was  interested  in  naval  matters  —  launching 
vessels  from  the  stocks  when  the  shipwrights  could  not 
move  them,  or  saving  mariners  and  fishermen  in  shipwrecks. 
According  to  William  of  Canterbury,  the  archbishop  in  his 
new  condition  had  a  weakness  for  the  married  clergy,  many 
miracles  being  worked  by  him  for  a  focaria.  Dead  lambs, 
geese,  and  pigs  were  restored  to  life,  to  silence  Sadducees 
who  doubted  the  resurrection.  In  remembrance  of  his  old 
sporting  days,  the  archbishop  would  mend  the  broken  wings 
and  legs  of  hawks  which  had  suffered  from  the  herons. 
Boys  and  girls  found  him  always  ready  to  listen  to  their 
small  distresses.  A  Suffolk  yeoman,  William  of  Ramshott, 
had  invited  a  party  to  a  feast.  A  neighbor  had  made  him 
a  present  of  a  cheese,  and  his  little  daughter  Beatrice  had 
been  directed  to  put  it  away  in  a  safe  place.  Beatrice  did 
as  she  was  told,  but  went  to  play  with  her  brother  Hugh, 
and  forgot  what  she  had  done  with  it.  The  days  went  on  ; 
the  feast  day  was  near.  The  children  hunted  in  every  cor- 
ner of  the  house,  but  no  cheese  could  be  found.  The  near- 
est town  was  far  off.  They  had  no  money  to  buy  another 
if  they  could  reach  it,  and  a  whipping  became  sadly  prob- 
able. An  idea  struck  the  little  Hugh.  "  Sister,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  heard  that  the  blessed  Thomas  is  good  and  kind. 
Let  us  pray  to  Thomas  to  help  us."  They  went  to  their 
beds,  and,  as  Hugh  foretold,  the  saint  came  to  them  in  their 
dreams.  Don't  you  remember,"  he  said,  "  the  old  crock 
in  the  back  kitchen,  where  the  butter  used  to  be  kept?" 
They  sprang  up,  and  all  was  well. 

The  original  question  between  the  king  and  the  arch- 
1  Materials,  vol.  i.  pp.  251,  252. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


129 


bishop  still  agitated  men's  minds,  and  was  still  so  far  from 
practical  settlement  that  visions  were  necessary  to  convert 
the  impenitent.  A  knight  of  the  court,  who  contended  for 
the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon,  and  continued  stubborn,  was 
struck  with  paralysis.  Becket  came  and  bade  him  observe 
that  the  Judge  of  truth  had  decided  against  the  king  by 
signs  and  wonders,  and  that  it  was  a  sin  to  doubt  any  fur- 
ther. The  knight  acknowledged  his  error.  Others  were 
less  penetrable.  The  miracles,  it  was  still  said,  might  be 
deceptive  ;  and,  true  or  false,  miracles  could  not  alter  mat- 
ters of  plain  right  or  wrong.  Even  women  were  found  who 
refused  to  believe  ;  and  a  characteristic  story  is  told,  in 
which  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  murderers. 

A  party  of  gentlemen  were  dining  at  a  house  in  Sussex. 
Hugh  de  Morville  was  in  the  neighborhood,  and  while  they 
were  sittino-  at  dinner  a  note  was  brouo-ht  in  from  him  ask- 
ing  one  of  the  guests  who  was  an  old  acquaintance  to  call 
and  see  him.  The  person  to  whom  the  note  was  addressed 
read  it  with  signs  of  horror.  When  the  cause  was  ex- 
plained, the  lady  of  the  house  said,  "  Is  that  all  ?  What  is 
there  to  be  alarmed  about  ?  The  priest  Thomas  is  dead : 
well,  why  need  that  trouble  us  ?  The  clergy  were  putting 
their  feet  on  the  necks  of  us  all.  The  archbishop  wanted 
to  be  the  king's  master,  and  he  has  not  succeeded.  Eat 
your  victuals,  neighbor,  like  an  honest  man."  The  poor 
lady  expressed  what  doubtless  many  were  feeling.  An  ex- 
ample was  necessary,  and  one  of  her  children  was  at  once 
taken  dangerously  ill.  The  county  neighbors  said  it  was  a 
judgment ;  she  was  made  to  confess  her  sins  and  carry  her 
child  to  Canterbury  to  be  cured,  where,  having  been  the 
subject  of  divine  interposition,  he  was  "  dedicated  to  God  " 
and  was  brought  up  a  monk. 

Through  the  offerings  the  monastery  at  Canterbury  be- 
came enormously  rich,  and  riches  produced  their  natural 
effect.    Giraldus  Cambrensis,  when  he  paid  a  visit  there  a 
few  years  later,  found  the  moi^ks  dining  more  luxuriously 
9 


130 


Life  and  Times  of 


than  the  king.  According  to  Nigellus,  the  precentor  of  the 
cathedral,  their  own  belief  in  the  wonders  which  they  daily 
witnessed  was  not  profound,  since  in  the  midst  of  them 
Nigellus  could  write  deliberately,  as  the  excuse  for  the 
prevalent  profligacy  of  churchmen,  "  that  the  age  of  mir- 
acles was  past."  It  was  observed,  and  perhaps  commented 
on,  that  unless  the  offerings  were  handsome  the  miracles 
were  often  withheld.  So  obvious  was  this  feature  that 
William  of  Canterbury  was  obliged  to  apologize  for  it. 

The  question  rises,"  he  says,  "  why  the  martyr  takes  such 
delight  in  these  donations,  being  now,  as  he  is,  in  heaven, 
where  covetousness  can  have  no  place.  Some  say  that  the 
martyr,  when  in  the  body,  on  the  occasion  of  his  going  into 
exile,  borrowed  much  money,  being  in  need  of  it  for  his 
fellow  exiles,  and  to  make  presents  at  court.  Being  unable 
to  repay  his  creditors  in  life,  he  may  have  been  anxious 
after  death  that  his  debts  should  be  discharged,  lest  his 
good  name  should  suffer.  And  therefore  it  may  be  that  all 
these  kings  and  princes,  knights,  bishops,  priests,  monks, 
nuns,  all  ages  and  conditions,  are  inspired  by  God  to  come 
in  such  troops  and  take  so  many  vows  on  them  to  grant 
pensions  and  annuities."  ^ 

There  is  no  occasion  to  pursue  into  further  details  the 
history  of  this  extraordinary  alliance  between  religion  and 
lying,  which  forced  on  Europe  the  most  extravagant  sacer- 
dotalism by  evidence  as  extravagant  as  itself.  By  an  ap- 
propriate affinity  the  claims  of  the  Church  to  spiritual 
supremacy  were  made  to  rest  on  falsehood,  whether  uncon- 
scious or  deliberate,  and  when  the  falsehood  ceased  to  be 
credible  the  system  which  was  based  upon  it  collapsed. 
Thus  all  illusions  work  at  last  their  own  retribution.  Eccle- 
siastical miracles  are  not  worked  in  vindication  of  purity  of 
life  or  piety  of  character.  They  do  not  intrude  themselves 
into  a  presence  to  which  they  can  lend  no  increase  of  beauty 
and  furnish  no  additional  authority.    They  are  the  spurious 

1  Materials,  vol.  i.  p.  327. 


« 


Tfiomas  Becket.  131 

offspring  of  the  passion  of  theologians  for  their  own  most 
extravagant  assumptions.  Thej  are  believed,  they  become 
the  material  of  an  idolatry,  till  the  awakened  conscience  of 
the  better  part  of  mankind  rises  at  last  in  revolt,  and  the 
fantastic  pretensions  and  the  evidence  alleged  in  support  of 
them  depart  together  and  cumber  the  world  no  more.  We 
return  to  authentic  history. 


132 


Life  and  Times  of 


CHAPTER  XIL 

When  tlie  news  of  the  catastrophe  at  Canterbury  arrived 
in  Normandy,  the  kmg  was  for  a  time  stunned.  None 
knew  better  tlian  he  the  temper  of  his  subjects  on  the  pres- 
ent condition  of  the  dispute  with  the  Church.    The  death 
of  the  grea^  disturber  was  natural,  and  may,  perhaps,  have 
been  inevitable.    Nevertheless,  if  the  result  of  it  as  seemed 
too  likely  to  be  the  case,  was  his  own  excommunication 
and  an  interdict  on  his  dominions,  a  rebellion  in  Normandy 
was  certain,  and  a  rebellion  in  England  was  only  too  prob- 
able.   Firm  as  might  have  been  his  own  grasp,  his  hold  on 
his  continental  duchies  was  not  strengthened  by  his  English 
sovereignty.    The  Norman  nobles  and  prelates  saw  their 
country  sliding  into  a  province  of  the  island  kingdom  which 
their  fathers  had  subdued.    If  they  were  to  lose  their  inde- 
pendence, their  natural  affinity  was  towards  the  land  with 
which  they  were  geographically  combined.    The  revolu- 
tionary forces  were  already  at  work  which  came  to  maturity 
in  the  next  generation,  and  if  Normandy  and  Anjou  were 
laid  under  interdict  for  a  crime  committed  in  England  and 
for  an  English  cause,  an  immediate  insurrection  might  be 
anticipated  with  certainty.     The  state  of  England  was 
scarcely  more  satisfactory.    The  young  princes,  who  had 
been  over-indulged  in  childhood,  were  showing  symptoms 
of  mutiny.    The  private  relations  between  an  English  sov- 
ereign and  his  family  were  not  yet  regarded  as  the  prop- 
erty of  his  subjects  ;  the  chroniclers  rarely  indulged  in  de- 
tails of  royal  scandals,  and  the  dates  of  Henry's  infidelities 
are  vaguely  given.    Giraldus  says  that  he  remained  true  to 
his  queen  till  she  tempted  her  sons  into  rebellion,  but  Elea- 


Thomas  Bechet, 


133 


nor  herself  might  have  told  the  story  differently,  and  the 
fire  which  was  about  to  burst  so  furiously  may  have  been 
long  smouldering.  As  to  the  people  generally,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  Becket  had  a  formidable  faction  among  them. 
The  humpbacked  Earl  of  Leicester  was  dead,  but  his  son, 
the  new  earl,  was  of  the  same  temper  as  his  father.  The 
barons  resented  the  demolition  of  their  castles,  which  the 
king  had  already  begun,  and  the  curtailment  of  their  feudal 
authority.  An  exasperating  inquiry  was  at  that  moment 
going  forward  into  the  conduct  of  the  sheriffs.  They  had 
levied  tax  and  toll  at  their  pleasure,  and  the  king's  inter- 
ference with  them  they  regarded  as  an  invasion  of  their 
liberties.  Materials  for  complaint  were  lying  about  in 
abundance,  and  anything  might  be  feared  if  to  the  injuries 
of  the  knights  and  barons  were  added  the  injuries  of  the 
Church,  and  rebellion  could  be  gilded  with  a  show  of  sanc- 
tity. The  same  spirit  which  sent  them  to  die  under  the 
walls  of  Acre  might  prompt  them  equally  to  avenge  the 
murder  of  the  archbishop.  Henry  himself  was  a  repre- 
sentative of  his  age.  He,  too,  really  believed  that  the 
clergy  were  semi-supernatural  beings,  whose  curse  it  might 
be  dangerous  to  undergo.  The  murder  itself  had  been  ac- 
companied with  every  circumstance  most  calculated  to  make 
a  profound  impression.  The  sacrilege  was  something,  but 
the  sacrilege  was  not  the  worst.  Many  a  bloody  scene  had 
been  witnessed  in  that  age  in  church  and  Cathedral ;  abbots 
had  invaded  one  another  at  the  head  of  armed  parties  ; 
monks  had  fought  and  been  killed  within  consecrated  walls, 
and  sacred  vessels  and  sacred  relics  had  been  carried  off 
among  bleeding  bodies.  High  dignitaries  were  occasionally 
poisoned  in  the  sacramental  wine,  and  such  a  crime,  though 
serious,  was  not  regarded  as  exceptionally  dreadful.  But 
Becket  had  but  just  returned  to  England  after  a  formal  rec- 
onciliation in  the  presence  of  all  Europe.  The  King  of 
France,  the  Count  of  Flanders,  and  the  Count  of  Blois  had 
pledged  their  words  for  his  safety.    He  had  been  killed  in 


134 


Life  and  Times  of 


his  own  cathedral.  He  had  fallen  with  a  dignity,  and  even 
grandeur,  which  his  bitterest  enemies  were  obliged  to  ad- 
mire. The  murderers  were  Henry's  own  immediate  attend- 
ants, and  Henry  could  not  deny  that  he  had  himself  used 
words  which  they  might  construe  into  a  sanction  of  what 
they  had  done. 

Giraldus  Cambrensis,  who  when  young  had  seen  and 
spoken  with  him,  has  left  us  a  sketch  of  Henry  the  Second's 
appearance  and  character  more  than  usually  distinct.  Henry 
was  of  middle  height,  with  a  thick  short  neck  and  a  square 
chest.  His  body  was  stout  and  fleshy,  his  arms  sinewy  and 
long.  His  head  was  round  and  large,  his  hair  and  beard 
reddish-brown,  his  complexion  florid,  his  eyes  gray,  with 
fire  glowing  at  the  bottom  of  them.  His  habits  were  ex- 
ceptionally temperate;  he  ate  little,  drank  little,  and  was 
always  extremely  active.  He  was  on  horseback,  at  dawn, 
either  hunting  or  else  on  business.  When  off  his  horse  he 
was  on  his  feet,  and  rarely  sat  down  till  supper  time.  He 
was  easy  of  approach,  gracious,  pleasant,  and  in  conversation 
remarkably  agreeable.  Notwithstanding  his  outdoor  habits 
he  had  read  largely,  and  his  memory  was  extremely  tena- 
cious. It  was  said  of  him,  tliat  he  never  forgot  a  face 
which  he  had  once  seen,  or  a  thing  which  he  had  heard  or 
read  that  was  worth  remembering.  He  was  pious  too,  Gir- 
aldus says,  pietate  spectabilis.  The  piety  unfortunately,  in 
Giraldus's  eyes,  took  the  wrong  shape  of  an  over-zeal  for 
justice,  which  brought  him  into  his  trouble  with  the  Church, 
while  to  his  technical  "religious  duties"  he  was  less  atten- 
tive than  he  ought  to  have  been.  He  allowed  but  an  hour  a 
day  for  mass,  and  while  mass  was  being  said  he  usually 
thought  oftsomething  else.  To  the  poor  he  was  profusely 
charitable,  "filling  the  hungry  with  good  things,  and  send- 
ing the  rich  empty  away."  He  was  largus  in  publico,  parvus 
in  privato ;  he  spent  freely  in  the  public  service  and  little 
on  himself.  As  a  statesman  he  was  reserved,  seldom  show- 
ing his  own  thoughts.    He  was  a  good  judge  of  character, 


Thomas  Bechet. 


135 


rarely  changing  an  opinion  of  a  man  which  he  had  once 
formed.  He  was  patient  of  opposition,  and  trusted  much  to 
time  to  find  his  way  through  difiiculties.  In  war  he  was 
dangerous  from  his  energy  and  his  intellect.  But  he  had  no 
love  for  war,  he  was  essentially  a  friend  of  peace,  and  after 
a  battle  could  not  control  his  emotion  at  the  loss  of  his  men. 
"In  short,"  Giraldus  concludes,  "  if  God  had  but  elected 
him  to  grace  and  converted  him  to  a  right  understanding  of 
the  privileges  of  his  Church,  he  would  have  been  an  incom- 
parable prince."  ^  Such  was  Henry,  the  first  of  the  Eng- 
lish Plantagenet  kings,  a  man  whose  faults  it  is  easy  to 
blame,  whose  many  excellences  it  would  have  been  less  easy 
to  imitate  —  a  man  of  whom  may  be  said  what  can  be 
affirmed  but  rarely  of  any  mortal,  that  the  more  clearly  his 
history  is  known  the  more  his  errors  will  be  forgiven,  the 
more  we  shall  find  to  honor  and  admire. 

He  was  at  Artrenteuil  when  the  fatal  account  was  brought 
to  him.  He  shut  himself  in  his  room,  ate  nothing  for  three 
days,  and  for  five  weeks  remained  in  penitential  seclusion. 
Time  was  precious,  for  his  enemies  were  not  asleep.  Lewis 
and  the  Archbishop  of  Sens  wrote  passionately  to  the  pope, 
charging  the  king  with  the  guilt  of  the  murder,  and  insist- 
ing that  so  enormous  an  outrage  should  be  punished  at  once 
and  with  the  utmost  severity.  The  Archbishop  of  Sens, 
on  his  own  authority  as  legate,  laid  Normandy  under  inter- 
dict, and  Alexander,  startled  into  energy  at  last,  sent  per- 
sons to  the  spot  to  confirm  the  archbishop's  action,  and  to 
extend  the  censures  over  England.  Henry  roused  himself 
at  last.  He  dispatched  the  Archbishop  of  Rouen  and  two 
other  bishops^  to  explain  what  had  happened,  so  far  as  ex- 
planation was  possi'hle  ;  and  as  the  danger  was  pressing  and 
bishops  travelled  slowly,  three  other  churchmen,  the  Abbot 

1  Giraldus,  vol.  v.  p.  301,  etc. 

2  The  Bishop  of  Worcester  was  one  of  them.  The  Bishop  of  Worcester 
could  explain  to  the  pope  why  his  inhibitory  letter  on  the  coronation  had 
never  been  delivered  in  England. 


136 


Life  and  Times  of 


of  Valaise  and  the  Archdeacons  of  Lisieux  and  Salisbury, 
pushed  on  before  them.  On  their  first  arrival  these  envoys 
were  refused  an  audience.  When  they  were  admitted  to 
Alexander's  presence  at  last,  the  attempt  at  palliation  was 
listened  to  with  horror.  Two  of  Becket's  clergy  were  at 
the  papal  court,  and  had  possession  of  pope  and  cardinals, 
and  it  appeared  only  too  likely  that  at  the  approaching 
Easter  Alexander  himself  would  declare  Henry  excommu- 
nicated. By  private  negotiations  with  some  of  the  cardinals 
they  were  able  to  delay  the  sentence  till  the  coming  of  the 
bishops.  The  bishops  brought  them  a  promise  on  Henry's 
part  to  submit  to  any  penance  which  the  pope  might  enjoin, 
and  to  acquiesce  in  any  order  which  the  pope  might  pre- 
scribe for  the  government  of  the  clergy.  An  immediate 
catastrophe  was  thus  averted.  Cardinals  Albert  and  Theo- 
doric  were  commissioned  at  leisure  to  repair  to  Normandy 
and  do  what  might  be  found  necessary.  To  the  mortifica- 
tion of  Lewis  the  censures  were  meanwhile  suspended,  and 
the  interdict  pronounced  by  the  Archbishop  of  Sens  was  not 
confirmed. 

Henry  on  his  part  prepared  to  deserve  the  pope's  forgive- 
ness. Uncertain  what  Alexander  might  resolve  upon,  he 
returned  to  England  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  his  energy. 
He  renewed  the  orders  at  the  ports  against  the  admission 
of  strangers  and  af^ainst  the  introduction  of  briefs  from 
Rome,  which  might  disturb  the  public  peace.  He  then  at 
once  undertook  a  duty  which  long  before  had  been  enjoined 
upon  him  by  Alexander's  predecessor,  and  had  been  left  too 
long  neglected. 

Ireland  had  been  converted  to  the  Christian  faith  by  an 
apostle  from  the  Holy  See,  but  in  seven  centuries  the  Irish 
Church  had  degenerated  from  its  original  purity.  Customs 
had  crept  in  unknown  in  other  Latin  communions,  and 
savoring  of  schism.  No  regular  communication  had  been 
maintained  with  the  authorities  at  Rome ;  no  confirmation 
of  abbots  and  bishops  had  been  applied  for  or  paid  for.  At 


Thomas  Bechet, 


137 


a  council  held  in  1151  a  papal  legate  had  been  present, 
and  an  arrangement  had  been  made  for  the  presentation  of 
the  palls  of  the  four  Irish  archbishoprics.  But  the  legate's 
general  account  of  the  state  of  Irish  affairs  increased  the 
pope's  anxiety  for  more  vigorous  measures.  Not  only 
Peter's  pence  and  first  fruits  were  not  paid  to  himself  —  not 
only  tithes  were  not  paid  to  the  clergy  —  but  the  most 
sacred  rites  were  perverted  or  neglected.  In  parts  of  the 
island  children  were  not  baptized  at  all.  Where  baptism 
was  observed,  it  more  resembled  a  magical  ceremony  than 
a  sacrament  of  the  Church.  Any  person  who  happened  to 
be  present  at  a  birth  dipped  the  child  three  times  in  water 
or  milk,  without  security  for  the  use  of  the  ajDpointed  words. 
Marriage  scarcely  could  be  said  to  exist.  An  Irish  chief 
took  as  many  wives  as  he  pleased,  and  paid  no  respect  to 
degrees  of  consanguinity.-^  Even  incest  was  not  uncom- 
mon ^  among  them.  The  clergy,  though  not  immoral  in  the 
technical  sense,  were  hard  drinkers.  The  bishops  lived  in 
religious  houses,  and  preferred  a  quiet  life  to  interfering 
with  lawlessness  and  violence.  The  people  of  Ireland,  ac- 
cording to  Giraldus,  who  was  sent  over  to  study  their  char- 
acter, were  bloodthirsty  savages,  and  strangers  who  settled 
among  them  caught  their  habits  by  an  irresistible  instinct. 
But  Ireland,  religious  Ireland  especially,  had  something  in 
its  history  which  commanded  respect  and  interest.  A  thou- 
sand saints  had  printed  their  names  and  memories  on  Irish 
soil.  St.  Patrick  and  St.  Bride  had  worked  more  miracles 
than  even  the  water  of  St.  Thomas.  Apostles  from  Ireland 
had  carried  the  Christian  faith  into  Scotland,  into  Iceland, 
and  into  Scandinavia. 

The  popes  felt  the  exclusion  of  so  singular  a  country 
from  the  Catholic  commonwealth  to  be  a  scandal  which 
ought  no  longer  to  be  acquiesced  in.    In  1155  Pope  Adrian 

1  "Plerique  enim  iHoriim  quot  volebant  uxores  habebant,  et  etiam  cog- 
natas  suas  germanas  habere  solebant  sibi  uxores."  — Benedict,  vol.  i.  p.  28. 

2  "Non  incestus  vitant."  —  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  vol.  v.  p.  138. 


138 


Life  and  Times  of 


had  laid  before  Henry  the  Second  the  duty  imposed  on 
Christian  princes  to  extend  the  truth  among  barbarous 
nations,  to  eradicate  vice,  and  to  secure  Peter's  pence  to 
the  Holy  See;  and  a  bull  had  been  issued,  sanctioning  and 
enjoining  the  conquest  of  Ireland.^ 

Busy  with  more  pressing  concerns,  Henry  had  put  off 
the  expedition  from  year  to  year;  Meanwhile,  the  Irish 
chiefs  and  kings  were  quarrelling  among  themselves. 
MacMorrough  of  Leinster  was  driven  out,  and  had  come  to 
England  for  help.  The  king  hesitated  in  his  answer;  but 
volunteers  had  been  found  for  the  service  in  Sir  Robert 
Fitzstephen,  Sir  Maurice  Prendergast,  Sir  Maurice  Fitz- 
gerald, Earl  Richard  Strigul,  with  other  knights  and  gen- 
tlemen who  were  eager  for  adventure;  and  a  Norman 
occupation  had  been  made  good  along  the  eastern  coast  of 
Munster  and  Leinster.  The  invasion  had  been  undertaken 
without  the  king's  consent.  He  had  affected  to  reo^ard  it 
with  disapproval ;  and  the  Irish  of  the  west,  rallying  from 
their  first  panic,  were  collecting  in  force  to  drive  the  in- 
truders into  the  sea.  The  desirableness  of  doing  something 
to  entitle  him  to  the  pope's  gratitude,  the  convenience  of 
absence  from  home  at  a  time  when  dano-erous  notices  miifht 
be  served  upon  him,  and  the  certainty  that  Alexander  would 
hesitate  to  pronounce  him  excommunicated  when  engaged 
in  a  conquest  which,  being  undertaken  under  a  papal  sane- 
ly Irish  Catholic  historians  pretend  that  the  bull  was  a  Xorman  forgery. 
The  bull  was  alleged  to  have  been  granted  in  1155:  in  1170  it  was  acted 
upon.  In  1171-72  a  council  was  held  at  Cashel,  in  which  the  reforms  de- 
manded by  Pope  Adrian  were  adopted,  and  the  Irish  Church  was  remod- 
elled, and  a  report  of  the  proceedings  was  forwarded  to  Alexander  the 
Third.  In  1174  a  confirmation  of  the  original  bull  was  published,  profess- 
ing to  have  been  signed  by  Alexander.  In  1177  Cardinal  Vivian  came 
as  legate  from  Rome,  who,  in  a  synod  at  Dublin,  declared  formally  in  the 
pope's  name  that  the  sovereignty  of  Ireland  was  vested  in  the  English 
king,  and  enjoined  the  Irish  to  submit  sub  pcznd  anathematis.  It  requires 
some  hardihood  to  maintain  in  the  face  of  these  undisputed  facts  that  the 
pope  was  kept  in  ignorance  that  the  island  had  been  invaded  and  con- 
quered under  a  sanction  doubly  forged,  and  that  Cardinal  Vivian  was 
either  a  party  to  the  fraud,  or  that  when  in  Ireland  he  never  discovered  it. 


Thomas  Bechet, 


139 


tion,  resembled  a  crusade,  determined  Henry  to  use  the 
opportunity,  and  at  last  accomplish  the  mission  which 
Adrian  had  imposed  upon  him.  After  his  return  from 
Normandy,  he  passed  rapidly  through  England.  He  col- 
lected a  fleet  at  JMilford  Haven,  and  landed  at  Waterford 
on  October  18,  1171.  All  Ireland,  except  the  north,  at 
once  submitted.  The  king  spent  the  winter  in  Dublin  in  a 
palace  of  wattles,  the  best  lodging  which  the  country  could 
afford.  In  the  spring  he  was  able  to  report  \o  Alexander 
that  the  obnoxious  customs  were  abolished,  that  Catholic 
discipline  had  been  introduced,  and  that  the  Irish  tribute 
would  be  thenceforward  punctually  remitted  to  the  papal 
treasury. 

Could  he  have  remained  in  Ireland  for  another  year,  the 
conquest  would  have  been  completed  ;  but  in  April  he  was 
recalled  to  meet  the  two  cardinals  who  had  arrived  in  Nor- 
mandy to  receive  his  submission  for  Becket's  death.  The 
Irish  annexation  was  of  course  a  service  which  was  permit- 
ted to  be  counted  in  his  favor,  but  the  circumstances  of  the 
murder,  and  Henry's  conduct  in  connection  with  it,  both 
before  and  after,  still  required  an  appearance  of  scrutiny. 
Not  the  least  remarkable  feature  in  the  story  is  that  the 
four  knights  had  not  been  punished.  They  had  not  been 
even  arrested.  They  had  gone  together,  after  leaving  Can- 
terbury, to  De  Morville's  Castle  of  Knaresborough.  They 
had  been  excommunicated,  but  they  had  received  no  further 
molestation.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  they  owed  their 
impunity  to  Becket's  own  claim  for  the  exclusive  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  spiritual  courts  in  cases  where  spiritual  persons 
were  concerned.  But  the  wildest  advocates  of  the  immuni- 
ties of  the  Church  had  never  dreamed  of  protecting  laymen 
who  had  laid  their  hands  on  clerks.  The  explanation  was 
that  the  king  had  acted  honorably  by  taking  the  responsi- 
bility on  himself,  and  had  not  condescended  to  shield  his 
own  reputation  by  the  execution  of  men  whose  fault  had 
been  over-loyalty  to  himself.    Elizabeth  might  have  re- 


140 


Life  and  Times  of 


memhered  with  advantage  the  example  of  her  ancestor 
when  she  punished  Davison,  under  circumstances  not  wholly 
dissimilar,  for  the  execution  of  the  Queen  of  Scots. 

The  king  met  the  cardinals  at  Caen  in  the  middle  of 
May.  At  the  first  interview  the  difficulty  was  disposed  of 
which  was  most  immediately  pressing,  and  arrangements 
were  made  for  a  repetition  of  the  ceremony  which  had  been 
the  occasion  of  the  excommunication  of  the  bishops.  Prince 
Henr}'  and  the  Princess  Margaret  were  again  crowned  at 
Winchester  on  the  27th  of  August  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Rouen  and  the  Bishops  of  Evreux  and  Worcester,  the  same 
prelates  who  had  gone  on  the  mission  to  Rome.  At 
Avranches  on  the  27th  of  September,  at  a  second  and  more 
solemn  assembly,  the  king  confessed  his  guilt  for  the  arch- 
bishop's death.  He  had  not  desired  it,  he  said,  and  it  had 
caused  him  the  deepest  sorrow  ;  but  he  admitted  that  he  had 
used  words  which  the  knights  had  naturally  misconstrued. 
He  attempted  no  palliation,  and  declared  himself  willing  to 
endure  any  penalty  which  the  cardinals  might  be  pleased  to 
impose. 

The  conditions  with  which  the  cardinals  were  satisfied 
implied  an  admission  that  in  the  original  quarrel  the  right 
had  lain  with  the  king.  All  the  miracles  at  Canterbury 
had  made  no  difference  in  this  essential  point.  The  king 
promised  to  continue  his  support  to  Alexander  as  long  as 
Alexander  continued  to  recognize  him  as  a  Catholic  sov- 
ereign —  as  long,  that  is,  as  he  did  not  excommunicate  him. 
He  promised  not  to  interfere  with  appeals  to  Rome  in  ec- 
clesiastical causes,  but  with  the  reservation  that  if  he  had 
ground  for  suspecting  an  invasion  of  the  rights  of  the  crown, 
he  might  take  measures  to  protect  himself.  He  promised 
to  abandon  any  customs  complained  of  by  the  Church 
which  had  been  introduced  in  his  own  reign ;  but  such 
customs,  he  said,  would  be  found  to  be  few  or  none.  He 
pardoned  Becket's  friends ;  he  restored  the  privileges  and 
the  estates  of  the  see  of  Canterbury.    For  himself,  he  took 


Thomas  Bechet, 


141 


the  cross,  with  a  vow  to  serve  for  three  years  in  the  Holy 
Land,  unless  the  pope  perceived  that  his  presence  was 
needed  elsewhere.  Meanwhile  he  promised  to  maintain 
two  hundred  Templars  there  for  a  year. 

On  these  terms  Henry  was  absolved.  GeofFi  ey  Ridel  and 
John  of  Oxford,  Becket's  active  opponents,  whom  he  had 
twice  cursed,  were  promoted  to  bishoprics.  The  four  knights 
must  have  been  absolved  also,  since  they  returned  to  the 
court,  and,  like  their  master,  took  the  vows  as  Crusaders. 
The  monastic  chroniclers  consign  them  to  an  early  and 
miserable  death.  The  industry  of  Dean  Stanley  has  dis- 
covered them,  two  years  after  the  murder,  to  have  been 
again  in  attendance  on  the  sovereign.  Tracy  became  Jus- 
ticiary of  Normandy,  and  was  at  Falaise  in  1174,  when 
William  the  Lion  did  homage  to  Henry.  De  Morville, 
after  a  year's  suspension,  became  again  Justiciary  of  Nor- 
thumberland. Fitzurse  apparently  chose  Ireland  as  the 
scene  of  his  penance.  A  Fitzurse  was  in  the  second  flight 
of  Norman  invaders,  and  was  the  founder  of  a  family  known 
to  later  history  as  the  MacMahons,  the  Irish  equivalent  of 
the  Son  of  the  Bear. 

But  Henry  was  not  yet  delivered  from  the  consequences 
of  his  contest  with  Becket,  and  the  conspiracy  wdiich  had 
been  formed  against  him  under  the  shelter  of  Becket's  name 
was  not  to  be  dissolved  by  the  spell  of  a  papal  absolution. 
Lewis  of  France  had  taken  up  Becket's  cause,  not  that 
felonious  clerks  might  go  unhanged,  but  that  an  English 
king  might  not  divide  his  own  land  with  him.  The  Earl 
of  Leicester  had  torn  down  Reginald  of  Cologne's  altars, 
not  alone  because  he  was  an  orthodox  Catholic,  but  that, 
with  the  help  of  an  ambitious  ecclesiasticism,  he  might 
break  the  power  of  the  crown.  Through  France,  through 
England,  through  Normandy,  a  combination  had  been 
formed  for  Henry's  humiliation,  and  although  the  pope  no 
longer  sanctioned  it,  the  purpose  was  deeply  laid,  and  could 
not  lightly  be  surrendered. 


142 


Life  and  Times  of 


Unable  to  strike  at  his  rival  as  a  spiritual  outlaw, 
Lewis  found  a  point  where  he  was  no  less  vulnerable  in  the 
jealousy  of  his  queen  and  the  ambition  and  pride  of  his 
sons.  His  aim  was  to  separate  England  from  its  French 
dependencies.  He,  and  perhaps  Eleanor,  instigated  Prince 
Henry  to  demand  after  the  second  coronation  that  his 
father  should  divide  his  dominions,  and  make  over  one  part 
or  the  other  to  him  as  an  independent  sovereign.  The 
king  of  course  refused.  Prince  Henry  and  his  wife  escaped 
to  Lewis  per  consilium  comitum  et  hnronum  Anglice  et  Nor- 
mannice  qui  patrem  suum  odio  hahehant}  The  younger 
princes,  Richard  and  Geoffrey,  followed  them ;  and  a  coun- 
cil was  held  at  Paris,  where  the  Count  of  Flanders  the 
Count  of  Boulogne,  William  the  Lion,  and  the  Earl  of 
Huntingdon  from  Scotland,  and  the  English  and  Norman 
disaffected  nobles,  combined  with  Lewis  for  a  general  attack 
upon  the  English  king.  England  w^as  to  rise.  Normandy 
was  to  rise.  William  was  to  invade  Northumberland.  The 
Count  of  Flanders  was  to  assist  the  English  insurgents  in 
the  eastern  counties.  Lewis  himself  was  to  lead  an  army 
into  Normandy,  where  half  the  barons  and  bishops  were 
ready  to  join  him.  The  tliree  English  princes,  embittered, 
it  may  be,  by  their  mother's  injuries,  swore  to  make  no 
peace  with  their  father  without  consent  of  their  allies. 

For  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  Henry  must  be  overwhelmed. 
Open  enemies  were  on  all  sides  of  him.  Of  his  professed 
friends  too  many  were  disloyal  at  heart.  The  Canterbury 
frenzy  added  fuel  to  the  conflagration  by  bringing  God 
into  the  field.  The  Earl  of  Norfolk  and  Lord  Ferrars  rose 
in  East  Anglia.  Lewis  and  young  Henry  crossed  the 
frontier  into  Normandy.  The  Scots  poured  over  the  Tweed 
into  Northumberland.  Ireland  caught  the  contagion  unin- 
vited; the  greater  part  of  the  force  which  had  remained 
there  was  recalled,  and  only  a  few  garrisons  were  left. 
Had  Alexander  allowed  the  Church  to  lend  its  help,  the 
1  Benedict. 


Thomas  Beehet, 


143 


king  must  have  fallen ;  but  Alexander  honorably  adhered 
to  his  engagement  at  Avranches. 

The  king  himself  remained  on  the  continent,  struggling 
as  he  best  could  against  war  and  treason.  Chief  Justice  de 
Luci  and  Humfrey  de  Bohun  faced  the  Scots  beyond  New- 
castle, and  drove  them  back  to  Berwick.  In  the  midst  of 
their  success  they  learned  that  the  Earl  of  Leicester  had 
landed  in  Norfolk  with  an  army  of  Flemings.  They  left 
the  north  to  its  fate.  They  flew  back.  Lord  Arundel 
joined  them,  and  the  old  Earl  of  Cornwall,  who  befriended 
Becket  while  he  could,  but  had  no  sympathies  with  rebel- 
lion. They  fell  on  the  Flemings  near  Bury  St.  Edmunds, 
and  flung  them  into  total  wreck.  Ten  thousand  were 
killed.  Leicester  himself  and  the  rest  were  taken,  and 
scarce  a  man  escaped  to  carry  back  the  news  to  Grave- 
lines.^ 

The  victory  in  Norfolk  was  the  first  break  in  the  cloud. 
The  rebellion  in  England  had  its  back  broken,  and  waver- 
ers  began  to  doubt,  in  spite  of  the  miracles,  whether  God 
was  on  its  side.  Bad  news,  however,  came  from  the  north. 
The  Scots  flowed  back,  laying  waste  Cumberland  and 
Northumberland  with  wild  ferocity.  At  the  opening  of 
the  summer  of  1174  another  army  of  French,  Flemings, 
and  insurgent  English  was  collected  at  Gravelines  to  re- 
venge the  defeat  at  Bury,  and  this  time  the  Earl  of 
Flanders  and  Prince  Henry  were  to  come  in  person  at  the 
head  of  it. 

An  invasion  so  lead  and  countenanced  could  only  be  re- 
sisted by  the  king  in  person.  The  barons  had  sworn  alle- 
giance to  the  prince,  and  the  more  loyal  of  them  might  be 
uncertain  in  what  direction  their  duties  lay.  Sad  and 
stern,  prepared  for  the  worst,  yet  resolute  to  contend  to  the 
last  against  the  unnatural  coalition,  Henry  crossed  in  July 
to  Southampton  ;  but,  before  repairing  to  London  to  col- 
lect his  forces,  he  turned  aside  out  of  his  road  for  a  singular 
and  touching  purpose. 

1  October  16,  1173. 


144 


Life  and  Times  of 


Although  the  conspiracy  against  which  he  was  fighting 
was  condemned  by  the  pope  it  had  grown  nevertheless  too 
evidently  out  of  the  contest  with  Becket,  which  had  ended 
so  terribly.  The  combination  of  his  wife  and  sons  with  his 
other  enemies  was  something  off  the  course  of  nature  — 
strange,  dark,  and  horrible.  He  was  abler  than  most  of 
his  contemporaries,  but  his  piety  was  (as  w^ith  most  wise 
men)  a  check  upon  his  intellect.  He,  it  is  clear,  did  not 
share  in  the  suspicion  that  the  miracles  at  the  archbishop's 
tomb  were  the  work  either  of  fraud  or  enchantment.  He 
was  not  a  person  who  for  political  reasons  would  affect 
emotions  which  he  despised.  He  had  been  Becket's  friend. 
Becket  had  been  killed,  in  part  at  least,  through  his  own 
fault ;  and,  though  he  might  still  believe  himself  to  have 
been  essentially  right  in  the  quarrel,  the  miracles  showed 
that  the  archbishop  had  been  really  a  saint.  A  more  com- 
plete expiation  than  the  pope  had  enjoined  might  be  neces- 
sary before  the  avenging  spirit,  too  manifestly  at  work,  could 
be  pacified. 

From  Southampton  he  directed  his  way  to  Canterbury, 
where  the  bishops  had  been  ordered  to  meet  him.  He 
made  offerings  at  the  various  churches  which  he  passed  on 
his  way.  On  reaching  Harbledown,  outside  the  city,  he 
alighted  at  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas,  and  thence  went-^  on 
foot  to  St.  Dunstan's  Oratory,  adjoining  the  wall.  At  the 
oratory  he  stripped  off  his  usual  dress.  He  put  on  a  hair 
penitential  shirt,  over  which  a  coarse  pilgrim's  cloak  was 
thrown  ;  and  in  this  costume,  with  bare  and  soon  bleeding 
feet,  Henry,  King  of  England,  Lord  of  Ireland,  Duke  of 
Normandy,  and  Count  of  Anjou,  walked  through  the  streets 
to  the  cathedral.  Pausing  at  the  spot  where  the  archbishop 
had  fallen,  and  kissing  the  stone,  he  descended  into  the 
crypt  to  the  tomb,  burst  into  tears,  and  flung  himself  on  the 
ground.  There,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  bishops,  knights, 
and  monks,  he  remained  long  upon  his  knees  in  silent 
1  July  12. 


Thomas  Bechet. 


145 


prayer.  The  Bisliop  of  London  said  for  him,  what  he  had 
said  at  Avranches,  that  he  had  not  commanded  the  murder, 
but  had  occasioned  it  by  his  hasty  words.  AVheu  the  bishop 
ended,  he  rose,  and  repeated  his  confession  with  his  own 
lips.  He  had  caused  the  archbishop's  death ;  therefore  he 
liad  come  in  person  to  acknowledge  his  sin,  and  to  entreat 
the  brothers  of  the  monastery  to  pray  for  him. 

At  the  tomb  he  offered  rich  silks  and  wedges  of  gold. 
To  the  chapter  he  gave  lands.  For  himself  he  vowed  to 
erect  and  endow  a  religious  house,  which  should  be  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Thomas.  Thus  amply,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
monks,  reconciliori  7neruif,  he  deserved  to  be  forgiven. 
But  the  satisfaction  was  still  incomplete.  The  martyr's 
injuries,  he  said,  must  be  avenged  on  his  own  person.  He 
threw  off  his  cloak,  knelt  again,  and  laid  his  head  upon  the 
tomb.  Each  bishop  and  abbot  present  struck  him  five  times 
with  a  whip.  Each  one  of  the  eighty  monks  struck  him 
thrice.  Strange  scene  !  None  can  be  found  more  charac- 
teristic of  the  age  ;  none  more  characteristic  of  Henry  Plan- 
tagenet. 

The  penance  done,  he  rose  and  resumed  his  cloak  ;  and 
there  by  the  tomb  through  the  remainder  of  the  July  day, 
and  through  the  night  till  morning,  he  remained  silently 
sitting,  without  food  or  sleep.  The  cathedral  doors  were 
left  open  by  his  orders.  The  people  of  the  city  came  freely 
to  gape  and  stare  at  the  singular  spectacle.  There  was  the 
terrible  King  Henry,  who  had  sent  the  knights  to  kill  their 
archbishop,  sitting  now  in  dust  and  ashes.  The  most  in- 
genious cunning  could  not  have  devised  a  better  method  of 
winning  back  the  affection  of  his  subjects ;  yet  with  no  act 
of  king  or  statesman  had  ingenious  cunning  ever  less  to  do. 
In  the  morning  he  heard  mass,  and  presented  oflPerings  at 
the  various  altars.  Then  he  became  king  once  more,  and 
rode  to  Loudon  to  prepare  for  the  invader.  If  his  humilia- 
tion was  an  act  of  vain  superstition,  Providence  encouraged 
him  in  his  weakness.  On  the  day  which  followed  it  William 
10 


146 


Life  and  Times  of 


the  Lion  was  defeated  and  made  prisoner  at  Alnwick.  A 
week  later  came  news  that  the  array  at  Gravelines  had 
dissolved,  and  that  the  invasion  was  abandoned.  Delivered 
from  peril  at  home,  Henry  flew  back  to  France  and  flung 
Lewis  back  over  his  own  frontier.  St.  Thomas  was  now 
supposed  to  be  fighting  for  King  Henry.  Imagination  be- 
comes reality  when  it  gives  to  one  party  certainty  of  vic- 
tory, to  the  other  the  anticipation  of  defeat.  By  the  spring 
of  1175  the  great  combination  was  dissolved.  The  princes 
returned  to  their  duty  ;  the  English  and  Norman  rebels  to 
their  allegiance  ;  and  with  Alexander's  mediation  Henry 
and  Lewis  and  the  Count  of  Flanders  were  for  a  time  once 
more  reconciled. 


Thomas  Bechet, 


147 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Though  the  formal  canonization  of  Becket  could  not  be 
accomplished  with  the  speed  which  his  impatient  friends 
demanded,  it  was  declared  with  the  least  delay  which  the 
necessary  forms  required.  A  commission  which  was  sent 
from  Kome  to  inquire  into  the  authenticity  of  the  miracles 
having  reported  satisfactorily,  the  promotion  of  the  arch- 
bishop was  immediately  decreed,  and  the  monks  were  able 
to  pray  to  him  without  fear  of  possible  irregularity.  Due 
honor  having  been  thus  paid  to  the  Church's  champion,  it 
became  possible  to  take  up  again  the  ever-pressing  problem 
of  the  Church's  reform. 

Between  the  pope  and  the  king  there  had  never  really 
been  much  difference  of  opinion.  They  were  now  able  to 
work  harmoniously  together.  A  successor  for  Becket  at 
Canterbury  was  found  in  the  Prior  of  Dover,  for  whose 
good  sense  we  have  a  sufficient  guarantee  in  the  abhorrence 
with  which  he  was  regarded  by  the  ardent  champions  of 
Church  supremacy.  The  reformation  was  commenced  in 
Normandy.  After  the  ceremony  at  Avranches  the  cardinals 
who  had  come  from  Rome  to  receive  Henry's  confession  held 
a  council  there.  The  resolutions  arrived  at  show  that  the 
picture  of  the  condition  of  the  clergy  left  to  us  by  Nigellus 
is  not  really  overdrawn.  It  was  decided  that  children  were 
to  be  no  more  admitted  to  the  cure  of  souls  —  a  sufficient 
proof  that  children  had  been  so  admitted.  It  was  decided 
that  the  sons  of  priests  should  not  succeed  to  their  father's 
preferments  —  an  evidence  not  only  of  the  habits  of  the 
incumbents,  but  of  the  tendency  of  Church  benefices  to  be- 
come hereditary.  Yet  more  significantly  the  guilty  bargains 


148 


Life  and  Times  of 


were  forbidden  by  which  benefices  were  let  out  to  farm, 
and  lay  patrons  presented  incumbents  on  condition  of  shar- 
ing the  offertory  money  ;  while  pluralist  ecclesiastics,  of 
whom  Becket  himself  had  been  a  conspicuous  instance,  were 
ordered  to  give  a  third,  at  least,  of  their  tithes  to  the  vicars. 
At  the  close  of  the  war,  in  1175,  a  similar  council  was  held 
at  Westminster  under  the  new  primate.  Not  only  the 
Avranches  resolutions  were  adopted  there,  but  indications 
appeared  that  among  the  English  clergy  simony  and  license 
were  at  a  yet  grosser  point  than  on  the  Continent.  Bene- 
fices had  been  publicly  set  up  to  sale.  The  religious  houses 
received  money  for  the  admission  of  monks  and  nuns. 
Priests,  and  even  bishops,  had  demanded  fees  for  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  sacraments  ;  while  as  regarded  manners 
and  morals,  it  was  evident  that  the  priestly  character  sat 
lightly  on  the  secular  clergy.  They  carried  arms  ;  they 
wore  their  hair  long  like  laymen  ;  they  frequented  taverns 
and  more  questionable  places  ;  the  more  reputable  among 
them  were  sheriffs  and  magistrates.  So  far  as  decrees  of  a 
council  could  alter  the  inveterate  habits  of  the  order,  a 
better  state  of  things  was  attempted  to  be  instituted.  In 
the  October  followinof,  Cardinal  Hucjezun  came  from  Rome 
to  arrange  the  vexed  question  of  the  liability  of  clerks  to 
trial  in  the  civil  courts.  The  customs  for  which  Henry 
pleaded  seem  at  that  time  to  been  substantially  recognized. 
Offenders  were  degraded  by  their  ordinaries  and  passed 
over  to  the  secular  judges.  For  one  particular  class  of 
offences  definite  statutory  powers  were  conceded  to  the 
State.  The  clergy  were  notorious  violators  of  the  forest 
laws.  Deer-stealing  implied  a  readiness  to  commit  other 
crimes,  and  Cardinal  Hugezun  formally  consented  that  or- 
ders should  be  no  protection  in  such  cases.  The  betrayal 
of  their  interests  on  a  matter  which  touched  so  nearly  the 
occupation  of  their  lives  was  received  by  the  clergy  with  a 
scream  of  indicrnation.  Their  lanoruasre  on  the  occasion  is 
an  illustration  of  what  may  have  been  observed  often,  be- 


Thomas  BecJcet, 


149 


fore  and  since,  that  no  order  of  men  are  less  respectiul  to 
spiritual  authority  when  they  disapprove  its  decrees. 

"  The  aforesaid  cardinal,"  wrote  Benedict  and  Walter  of 
Coventry,  "  conceded  to  the  king  the  right  of  impleading  the 
clerks  of  his  realm  under  the  forest  laws,  and  of  punishing 
them  for  taking  deer.  Limb  of  Satan  that  he  was  !  merce- 
nary satellite  of  the  devil  himself!  Of  a  shepherd  he  was 
made  a  robber.  Seeing  the  wolf  coming,  he  fled  away  and 
left  the  sheep  whom  the  supreme  pontiff  had  committed  to 
his  charge."  ^ 

The  angry  advocates  of  ecclesiastical  license  might  have 
spared  their  passion.  The  laws  of  any  country  cannot  be 
maintained  above  the  level  of  the  average  iutellisrence  of 
the  people ;  and  in  another  generation  the  clergy  would  be 
free  to  carry  their  cross-bows  without  danger  of  worse  con- 
sequences than  a  broken  crown  from  the  staff  of  a  game- 
keeper. "  Archbishop  Richard,"  says  Giraldus,  "  basely 
surrendered  the  rights  which  the  martyr  Thomas  had  fought 
for  and  won,  but  Archbishop  Stephen  recovered  them." 
The  blood  of  St.  Thomas  had  not  been  shed,  and  the  martyr 
of  Canterbury  had  not  been  allowed  a  monopoly  of  wonder- 
working, that  a  priest  should  be  forbidden  to  help  himself 
to  a  haunch  of  vension  on  festival  days.  In  the  great 
Charter  of  English  freedom  the  liberties  of  the  Church  were 
comprehended  in  the  form,  or  almost  in  the  form,  in  which 
Becket  himself  would  have  defined  them.  The  barons  paid 
for  the  support  of  the  clergy  on  that  memorable  occasion  by 
the  concession  of  their  most  extravagant  demands.  Ben- 
efit of  clergy  thenceforward  was  permitted  to  throw  an  en- 
chanted sliield,  not  round  deer-stealers  only,  but  round 
thieves  and  murderers,  and  finally  round  every  villain  that 
could  read.  The  spiritual  courts,  under  the  name  of  liberty, 
were  allowed  to  develop  a  system  of  tyranny  and  corrup- 

1  "  Ecce  membrum  SatanjB  !  ecce  ipsius  Satanoe  conductus  satelles  !  qui 
tarn  subito  factus  cle  pastore  raptor  videns  lupum  venientem  fugitet  dimisit 
oves  sibi  a  summo  pontifice  commissas." 


150       Life  and  Times  of  Thomas  Bechet. 

tion  unparalleled  in  the  administrative  annals  of  any  time 
or  country.  The  English  laity  were  for  three  centuries 
condemned  to  writhe  under  the  yoke  which  their  own  cred- 
ulous folly  had  imposed  on  them,  till  the  spirit  of  Henry 
the  Second  at  length  revived,  and  the  aged  iniquity  was 
brought  to  judgment  at  the  Reformation. 


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SHORT  STUDIES  ON  GREAT  SUBJECTS. 

By  James  Anthony  Froude,  M.A., 

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CRITICAL  NOTICES. 

"They  are  a  worthy  continuation  of  a  history  which  will  hold  a  hig;h  place  in  English 
Hteranire.  Mr.  Fronde  belongs  to  the  school  of  Carlyle,  but  he  is  not  an  imitator  of  thai 
great  writ<*r.  He  equals  him  in  industry  and  profound  study,  but  he  is  calmer  and  more 
natural  in  his  tone,  more  thoughtful  in  his  remarks  on  events,  more  unaffected  in  his  narra- 
tive, and  more  simple  and  life-like  in  his  portraits.  In  the  main,  he  is  a  pictorial  historian, 
and  his  skill  in  description  and  fulness  of  knowledge  make  his  work  abound  in  scenes  and 
passages  that  are  almost  new  to  the  general  reader.  We  close  his  pages  with  unfeigned 
regret,  and  we  bid  him  good  speed  in  his  noble  mission  of  exploring  tiie  sources  of  English 
history  in  one  of  its  most  remarkable  periods." — British  Quarterly  Review. 

"The  claims  of  the  author  to  a  high  standing  among  English  historians,  are  already 
fully  conceded.  His  researches  have  been  uidei>endent  and  original,  and  although  some 
m:iy  except  to  some  of  his  conclusions,  especially  in  regard  to  the  character  of  Henry  VIII., 
it  will  be  admitted  that  he  has  struck  out  new  lights  for  the  better  and  fuller  reading  of  the 
period  which  he  has  undertaken  to  unfold,  and  furnished  ampler  materials  for  the  forma 
tion  of  correct  judgments.  We  have  noticed  in  the  English  reviews  a  general  acknowledg- 
ment that  Mr.  Froude  possesses,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  qualifications  of  an  able, 
perspicacious,  honest,  and  impartial  historian.  The  edition  of  Scrihner  &  Co.  will  fulfill 
the  wishes  of  the  most  fastidious,  and  is  accordingly  recommended,  without  hesitation,  for 
its  typographical  excellence." — Philadelphia  Presbyterian. 

"  The  style  is  excellent  ;  sound,  honest,  forcible,  singularly  perspicuous  English  •  at 
times,  with  a  sort  of  picturesque  simplicity,  pictures  dashed  off  with  only  a  few  touches,  but 

perfectly  alive  We  have  never  to  read  a  passage  twice  We  see 

*he  course  of  events  day  by  day,  not  only  the  more  serious  and  important  communications, 
but  the  gossip  of  the  hour.  ...  If  truth  and  vivid  reality  be  the  perfection  of  history, 
much  is  to  be  said  in  favor  of  this  mode  ol  composition." — London  Quarterly. 

"The  ease  and  spirit,  the  gentleness  and  force,  the  grace  and  energy,  the  descriptive  and 
^jassionate  power,  the  unstudied  ease,  and  the  consummate  art  of  both  imagery  and  diction 
which  distinguish  this  remarkable  writer,  will  soon  make  a  place  for  him  among  the  most 
interesting  and  distinguished  of  those  who  have  attempted  to  write  any  portion  of  the  won- 
derful history  of  England  Those  who  have  not  read  any  of  these  volumes  can  scarcdj 
appreciate,  without  the  fial,  how  rich  a  treat  is  in  store  for  them." — N.  Y.  Times. 


FROUDE'S 

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CRITICAL  NOTICES. 

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and  after  the  writer  had  established  his  claim  to  rank  among  the  greatest  of  modern  histt>- 
rians.  They  touch  upon  a  variety  of  stibjects,  and  show  how  thoughtfully  their  anthor  hac 
considered  them.  The  articles  from  the  Westminster  EeTiew  on  the  '  Hook  ol  Job'  and 
the  '  Philosophy  of  Spinoza,'  are  pearls  of  great  price." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"  '  Short  Studies  on  Great  Subjects,'  by  James  Anthony  Froude,  is  the  title  of  a  series 
of  the  minor  writings  of  the  popular  Eivgfish  historian,  who  is  so  bold  and  original  a  thinker 
that  "Othing  which  comes  from  him  should  be  overlooked  by  those  who  would  keep  up  with 
the  intellectual  progress  of  the  age." — N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

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An  Important  Historical  Series, 

Epochs  of  Modern  History. 

EDITED  BY 

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mo3t  important  epochs  in  the  world's  history,  always  making  the  history  of  a  nation  sub- 
ordinate to  this  more  general  idea.  No  attempt  will  be  made  to  recount  all  the  events  of 
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ATION." 

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THE  AGE  OF  ELIZABETH.    By  Rev.  M.  Creighton,  M.A. 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  STUARTS;  AND  WESTERN  EUROPE  FROM 

1678  to  1697.    By  Rev.  E.  Hale,  M.A. 
THE  PURITAN  REVOLUTION,  1603-1660.   By  S.  R.  Gardiner. 
THE    EARLY    PLANTAGENETS.   By  the  Rev.  William  Stubbs,  M.A. 
THE  AGE  OF  ANNE.    By  Edward  E.  Morris,  M.A. 

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-A-    r>  E  L  I  Gr  HXFTJ  JL,  BOOK. 


Charles  Kingsley: 

HIS  LETTERS 

AND 

MEMORIES  OF  HIS  LIFE. 

EDITED  BY  HIS  WIFE. 

WITH  STEEL  PORTRAIT  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 
ABniliGEJ)  EDITION, 
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OPINIONS  OF  THE  FOREIGN  PRESS. 


From  the  London  Saturday  Review. 
•'The  book  discharges  very  completely  the  most  essential  functions  of  a  biography.  It  enables 
us  to  know  Mr.  Kingsley  thoroughly  well ;  to  appreciate  his  strongest  motives  ;  to  understand  what 
he  thought  about  himself  and  his  performances  ;  and  to  form  a  tolerably  complete  estimate  of  his 
work.  Mr.  Kingsley  was  a  man  of  sufficient  force  and  versatility  to  deserv-e  such  a  treatment ;  and 
everj'body  who  sympathizes  with  some  of  his  aims — a  phrase  which  includes  nearly  everj'  one  who 
wishes  well  to  his  race — or  who  has  been  interested  by  Hypatia  or  Alton  Locke,  which  again  in- 
cludes all  readers  of  the  best  modem  English  literature,  will  find  the  volume  full  of  interest." 

From  the  London  Daily  Neivs. 
"  Will  be  heartily  welcomed  by  the  public.    .    .    .     This  estimate  of  him  wDl  probably  be 
that  which  posterity  will  accept,  now  that  in  these  letters  and  memories  the  man  himself  may  be 
known  as  only  his  nearest  friends  knew  him  while  he  lived." 

From  the  British  Quarterly  Review. 
"  Mrs.  Kingsley  has  edited  these  memorials  of  her  distinguished  husband  with  good  taste  and 
great  care.    .    .    .    The  book  is  worthy  of  the  subject,  intensely  interesting  alike  fh)m  the  wide 
circle  of  subjects  it  touches,  and  the  beautiful,  gifted,  humane,  and  sympathetic  spirit  which  it 
brings  so  near  to  us. 

EARLY  ORDERS  SOLICITED. 

The  above  hook  for  sale  by  all  booksellers^  »r  will  he  sent,  j>ost  or  excess  chargtt 
paid,  ujion  receipt  of  the  price  hy 


SCRIBNER,  ARMSTRONG  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

743  &  745  Broadway,  New  York, 


BW5097  .T4F94 

Life  and  times  of  Thomas  Becket. 

Princeton  Thepiogicai  Semms^v-Sref '  ^  t-i-^ 


1  1012  00034  6934 


